


Power and Control

by winfarthing



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 70,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winfarthing/pseuds/winfarthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Explores Erica and Franky's relationship post their first kiss at the completion of Season 1</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking Control

That damn kiss! She’d fought it, she really had, but that had only made giving in to it even sweeter.  She had replayed that kiss a thousand times in her mind.  Cursing herself for letting it happen then asking herself _how_ had she let it happen?  It had happened though and now there was no going back.  The times she wasn’t cursing herself, she remembered those sensual lips against hers, pressing, insistent, and yet so soft, tasting strangely of  strawberries, as though Franky had eaten a punnet of them before entering her office.  She remembered the weight of Franky against her as she had pushed her to the wall then her hips holding her there and the feel of her strong thighs against hers.  It was intoxicating.  Erica could lose herself in the memory of it.  Then it was over, Franky had been the one to pull away, to end it.  Franky, who was always pushing for control of their relationship, had suddenly taken it.  Now Erica wondered if she would be able to take it back.

It was one week later, a week in which the Governor had carefully avoided any contact with the prisoner.  Their weekly tutorial had been cancelled by Erica without explanation.  Franky hadn’t been surprised, Erica was in avoidance mode, a state in which the older woman seemed to spend much of her life as far as Franky could tell.  Besides, Franky was busy and it was best that she wasn’t distracted by interludes with the sexy Miss Davidson.  With Bea in solitary after her fatal attack on Jacs, Franky had some clear water to sure up her position as top dog.  She had spent the days since the attack networking the other prisoners until she felt confident she had most of Jacs' old supporters on her side.  Her pitch had been simple.  Did they want to support Bea, who took out their leader mercilessly and couldn’t be trusted not to do the same to those who had thrown their lot in with her, or Franky, who would keep them safe?

Her key supporters seemed solid.  Boomer had kept a lid on any minor skirmishes which had broken out between the women in typical Boomer style.  Kim was giving herself airs, a consequence of knowing she was shagging the boss and her safety was assured.  Liz and Doreen, however, had been reserved since Bea’s incarceration.  They had barely spoken to Franky and kept to themselves during the recreational periods.  Franky felt it was time to challenge their loyalty. 

The monitor flickered and Erica watched Franky move into the view of the surveillance camera in the yard.  The young dark haired woman was in profile as she moved across the screen and Erica admired the well-defined shoulders and toned arms.  Franky was fit but the tight sleeveless top showed off more than just her muscles as Erica found herself mesmerised by the curve of her chest.  That chest, which had been pushed up against her own during that kiss, made Erica’s pulse quicken.  Franky disappeared and Erica pushed some keys on her computer until the camera panned out.  She was talking to Liz and Doreen, her pose deceptively relaxed, but Erica knew Franky was rarely relaxed.  She had spent her time in prison always with one eye watching out for Jacs to take her down, and if not her, then one of her supporters.  As Erica watched, Liz shook her head firmly and pointed her finger in Franky’s chest as she spoke.  Erica couldn’t read her lips to know what was being said but from Doreen’s worried expression she guessed Liz was not being compliant with Franky’s wishes.  She put her hand on Liz’s arm but the older woman shook it off.  Franky took a step forward, towering over Liz aggressively, but Liz did not stand down.  It was a stare-down Erica could have expected to see in an old western movie and she was wondering who would back down first when there was a loud explosion.  All three women looked towards the main building.

As Erica left her office there was a second explosion.  She thought it was coming from the direction of the kitchen.  She called instructions to her secretary to call 000 as she headed out into the corridor.  As she ran she speculated on the explosion, the cause, and the inevitable blame which would fall on her shoulders.  Christ, couldn’t Wentworth even go one week without a bloody incident?

She ran into Will first.  He was carrying an unconscious prisoner along the corridor.  He stopped when he saw her.  She recognised the prisoner as Claude from Cell Block J, “what happened?” she asked, still staring at Claude’s bloody head.

“Gas explosion in the kitchen,” Will gasped, “no idea what caused it but there are about ten prisoners unaccounted for.  This one was near the door so I was able to get to her.  Fletch has gone in to see if he can find the others.”

“Jesus!” Erica took hold of the prisoner.  “I’ll take her to medical, you go back and help Fletch, where’s Vera?”

Will shrugged, “haven’t seen her,” he turned back the way he came just as the code red alarm began sounding. 

Erica struggled with the weight of Claude, she was a beefy woman who was a regular on the kitchen roster, and this combined with her unconscious form made it difficult for the slim Governor to carry her.  She had barely made any progress when she heard someone running towards her.  

“Erica, what’s happened?” Franky stopped in front of her, looking from the Governor to Claude and back again.  “Is it the kitchen?”  Her green eyes held concern, and the usual cockiness and attitude were missing from her face.

“Help me Franky, I haven’t the strength to move her on my own,” Erica replied anxiously, ignoring both questions as she struggled to hold on to Claude.  She felt the weight lessen and looked up to see Franky taking the prisoner’s arm and putting it over her shoulder.  

“It’s ok Erica, I’ll help you,” the younger woman said calmly and Erica immediately felt her anxiety recede.  She stole a look at Franky and found herself captured by the compelling gaze of the prisoner.  She was losing herself in those eyes, which were not laughing at her for a change or challenging her or pleading with her but held an expression which Erica could not define.  It was Franky who looked away and Erica felt a sudden loss.

They moved quickly and silently towards the medical area of the prison.  There the rostered doctor and two nurses relieved them of their charge.  Franky leaned against the door frame studying Erica as the Governor watched the doctor assess the patient, a frown creasing her forehead, one hand on her hip and the other rubbing her brow nervously.

“Erica,” she prompted.  “Was it the kitchen?”

Erica turned to look at her, and Franky could tell it was taking her every effort to focus on Franky’s words.  Franky moved forward and took hold of Erica’s shoulders, she felt the Governor tense, and peered into her eyes.  “Was it the kitchen, Erica?” she repeated with more urgency.

“Yes,” Erica responded.  She saw Franky tense in response and wondered why.  “You need to return to your cell, Franky,” she looked down at the hands still holding her and back to Franky.

The younger woman dropped her hands to her side and stepped back.  “I have to find Kim,” was all Franky said.

“She’ll be back in the cell block by now, Franky,” Erica reminded her.  

“No,” Franky said with some agitation, “she was working in the kitchen today.”

Before Erica could respond the prisoner had disappeared down the corridor towards the kitchen.  Erica cursed under her breath and set off after her.  They arrived to find Will and Fletch had rescued five other prisoners from the rubble but were reluctant to go back in.  

“There’s a fire and the smoke is overwhelming,” Fletch muttered when Erica questioned why they had stopped.  “Needs the professionals now with the right gear.”

Will nodded as he coughed continuously, sweat streaming down his face and his shirt soaked in Claude’s blood.

“All right,” agreed Erica but Franky, who had checked the rescued prisoners and found Kim was not amongst them, stepped forward angrily. 

“What the hell, you can’t just let them die in there,” she yelled.

“Franky,” Erica tried to calm her.  “I cannot risk officers’ lives, we will wait for the fire fighters,” she put a restraining hand on Franky’s arm as the prisoner took an aggressive step forward but Franky shook her off.

“Well I bloody won’t,” and before Erica realised her intent, the prisoner had plunged into the smoking debris. 


	2. Wanting Control

It was another five minutes before the fire fighters arrived. Will and Fletch were busy with those prisoners they had pulled from danger, applying first aid then getting those most in need to the medical centre. Erica helped make the prisoners comfortable and spoke reassuringly to those who were conscious but couldn’t bring herself to leave the spot where she had last seen Franky. Besides, the experience with Claude had shown her that she would not be particularly effective trying to move prisoners on her own.

She was furious with Franky for taking control of the situation as though she knew best, for ignoring Erica’s position and her decision to wait, and for her desperate need to save Kim. Erica wasn’t particularly keen to explore that last reason. It made her seem small-minded, she knew it, and that just made her more furious with Franky. Of course, if Franky managed to get herself out alive, Erica would tell her exactly what she thought of her cavalier attitude to danger. That attitude, which had put Franky in the medical unit countless times, would be the death of her.

Franky was blind from the smoke and disorientated. Her throat burned as she breathed and she panicked. She stumbled around, trying to feel her way to Kim but all the while feeling helpless and useless. She wondered if she would ever find her way out again. Eventually she stumbled over something. It was a body but was it Kim? She couldn’t tell but the size of it felt right and she just hoped her luck was in. Her choices were limited, as usual, she thought grimly. She could rescue this person, in the hope it was Kim and she was still alive or she could go on, possibly leaving Kim to die where she lay. Franky grabbed hold of the inert body and headed in the direction of what she hoped was safety.

When Franky stumbled out with an unconscious Kim in her arms just as the fire fighters arrived, Erica felt an enormous sense of relief. She let out her breath slowly and watched as Franky turned over her charge to one of the fire fighters. The prisoner appeared no worse for wear from the experience except for a burn on her arm. As Erica watched, Franky leant against the wall then slid down it until she was sitting with her knees up and cradling her head in her arms.

The wash-up was better than anyone had expected. No one had died in the explosion, which had been caused by a gas explosion in one of the ovens, and while the kitchen was out of commission at least the fire had not spread to other parts of the prison. There was talk of commendations for Will and Fletch, who had risked their lives to save prisoners.

“What about Franky?” Erica had tentatively suggested to Channing. “She saved Kim Chang’s life. Doesn’t she deserve a medal too?” It didn’t seem fair to Erica to single out the officers without acknowledging Franky’s efforts as well.

Channing snorted. “Haven’t you just finished telling me, she did so with a blatant disregard for your instructions? Forget it Erica, I’m not giving that prisoner any additional reason to think she is something special.”

“But what she did _was_ special,” Erica pointed out. Despite how she felt about Franky’s actions, Channing’s discrimination sat uncomfortably with the Governor. Franky, regardless of her motivation, was just as brave as Will and Fletch in Erica’s eyes.

“Careful,” sneered Channing, “your bias is showing.”

Erica gave up. She knew what she thought represented fairness not partiality but Channing was always willing to misinterpret her comments if it suited his agenda. Her position was tenuous and recent events had done nothing to ensure continued support up the line. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed Channing on side if she was to continue in her position. The discussion moved on to alternative arrangements for meal preparations.

Franky was shooting hoops. She was a bundle of nervous energy since the explosion and she found focussing on trying to put a ball through a hole was the only thing that would calm her. She had tried to read, play cards with Boomer, watch TV, even study but her mind refused to settle on anything other than that smoky, hot, claustrophobic kitchen.Kim was still in medical so there wasn’t even the option of a shag to distract her from her thoughts.

Yes, what she needed was a distraction, she thought, as the ball bounced off the ring. And what better distraction could there be than Miss Erica Davidson, with her nervous blushes and her feisty response to Franky's advances.

The prisoner looked across the yard and saw Vera was on duty. The deputy was always a bit of a soft touch and Franky tossed the ball in the direction of the other inmates and wandered across to the guard.

"I need to see Miss Davidson," she stated without preliminaries.

"What for, Franky?" The deputy asked, not unkindly.

Franky squinted into the sun and tilted her head slightly to one side. "Tutoring issue," was all she said.

Vera frowned but eventually nodded, "All right," and she called across to another guard. "Take Doyle to see the Governor," she instructed.

Erica was seated behind her desk reading a report when Franky was announced. She looked up and watched the prisoner as she was ushered into the room. Franky smirked at her and dropped into a chair.

The Governor waited for the guard to leave. "What is it Franky?"

"I wanted to see you," Franky replied.

"Well here I am," Erica frowned.

"Yes," agreed Franky with a wolfish grin then lapsed into silence. She stared at the older woman until Erica began to fidget.

“How’s your arm?” the Governor asked, looking at the bandaged forearm.

“Better than a broken rib,” Franky replied ambiguously and winked.

Erica wondered when Franky had broken a rib to be able to make the comparison. "You shouldn't have gone into kitchen," she couldn’t help saying. "You put yourself in terrible danger."

"Didn't know you cared," Franky said flippantly. This was what she needed, the flirty banter in which they indulged.

"For God's sake, Franky, you could have been killed!" Erica took a deep breath to calm herself. Why did she let this woman get to her?

"Wow," Franky raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "When is my next tutoring session?" She asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"When I say so," Erica replied irritably. She stood up and walked towards the door. "I'm busy Franky. You'll have to go now."

She stood by the door waiting. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Franky also stood up and followed her to the door. As Erica took hold of the handle though, Franky leant past the Governor and put a hand against the door to stop it opening. She had manoeuvred Erica up against the door before the Governor realised what had happened.

Erica felt the prisoner’s warm breath against her neck. “You don’t want it, you know,” Franky murmured into her ear.

Erica’s senses were so heightened she could barely focus on the words. Franky’s hands were holding her hips and pressing her against the closed door. Her touch was firm, certain and unyielding. All she could smell was the prisoner’s shampoo and the feel of Franky’s hair soft against her face as she leant in. She had been anticipating another kiss, only then realising how desperately she wanted it but instead Franky had dallied, making the Governor wait, telling her she didn’t want it, when it was exactly what she did want.

“What?” she gasped.

“Control,” answered Franky softly. “You want me to have it,” she said knowingly and Erica could hear the satisfaction in Franky’s voice. The younger woman pulled back until she could see Erica’s face. There was a small triumphant smile on Franky’s face as she studied Erica.

“Franky,” she said helplessly. Christ, she thought, how did this woman have such an effect on her? She became an inarticulate, awkward teenager with her first crush.

“Relax Erica,” Frankly laughed softly. “I won’t let you down.” Then she kissed her. Swiftly, expertly and thoroughly and Erica didn’t fight it. Instead she let herself give into the sensation of Franky’s mouth exploring her own and couldn’t stop herself from responding. It lasted an eternity but when Franky’s lips pulled away Erica felt it was over too quickly. She grabbed at Franky’s top to pull her closer but Franky just laughed and took Erica’s hands and put them above her head. As she held her captive, Franky moved closer so Erica could feel the length of her pressing against her.

There were footsteps in the corridor. They both heard them and any minute the owner would be at the door. Erica made to move out of Franky’s hold, an anxious look coming into her eyes as she silently watched Franky and waited for her to release her. The prisoner did not move away though. She continued to restrain Erica, an implacable expression in her green eyes, as the footsteps came closer. Erica struggled but to no avail. Franky was the stronger of the two women. Just as the footsteps stopped on the other side of the door, Franky suddenly let go and stepped back. Erica barely had a moment to move away from the door before the handle turned and Vera walked in.


	3. Power Plays

Vera stopped suddenly and looked from Erica to Franky.  "Sorry, should I come back later?" She asked with a frown.

 "Franky was just going," Erica said hastily and was dismayed to hear her voice crack.  She cleared her throat.  "Weren't you, Franky." It was a statement rather than a question.

 "Coming, going, who can say?" Franky said with an impish grin and a wink at Vera, who gave a startled look in return.

 Erica ignored Franky.  "Did you want something?" She asked her deputy. 

"We had a meeting scheduled," she reminded Erica, "about the new kitchen arrangements."

"Right," agreed Erica. "Come in then."  She moved towards her desk and sat down behind it thankfully.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Miss Davidson," Franky said as she was about to leave.  Erica looked at her blankly.  "For my tutoring session," she added.

Erica nodded dumbly and watched as Franky, a hint of a smile showing, vanished into the corridor.  Christ, she had just been played!  She knew it and wondered what else she had expected.  Franky was a player after all.

She listened with half a mind to Vera's concerns about the new arrangements.  The rest was occupied with Franky, specifically Franky's claim that Erica wanted her in control of their relationship.  It was untrue, completely, Erica liked to be the one in control.  Look at her relationship with Mark, it worked because Mark was malleable and conciliatory and happy for Erica to call the shots.  

Except it wasn't working, was it, she reminded herself.  If it had been she wouldn't have just been kissing a prisoner in her office or wanting to do it again.  She blushed as she thought of that kiss and how it made her feel.  How far would Franky have taken things if Vera hadn't come along?  How far would she have wanted her to take it?  The reality was far more intoxicating than any erotic dream, and far more dangerous.  She could feel her control slipping.

She hadn’t really berated Franky about flouting her instructions to wait and putting herself in danger, despite telling herself she would.  She hadn’t asked Franky what Kim really meant to her even though she wanted to.  She wasn’t sure she wasn’t just a passing distraction for Franky, a challenge to help while away the long hours.  It worried her that she had a lot more to lose than Franky did.  It worried her more that when she was with Franky these considerations seemed to matter less and less.

Vera was looking at her strangely. She snapped back to the present and smiled tentatively.  "Quite," she said, hoping it was an appropriate response.

"So you agree then, that it's the best approach," Vera sounded surprised.

"Well let me think about it," Erica stalled, "leave me the paperwork and I'll look through the detail," she said, hoping the papers in Vera's lap related to the matter at hand.  Her deputy nodded and handed them over. "How is the mood since the fire?" She asked suddenly.

"Subdued," responded Vera.  "Even Franky's gang is quiet.  I expect it is a combination of the shock and that the kitchen incident seems to have closed down one of the main drug suppliers.  Half the women are going through detox."

"Well it won't last," Erica predicted. "As soon as Bea returns to the cells there will be trouble."

"Is that likely to be soon?" Vera asked.

Erica shrugged.  "It won't be up to me," she said then added, "if it were I'd keep Franky and Bea separated permanently.  I can't help feeling one of them will go the way of Jacs."  Vera nodded, she felt the same.

Franky was in better spirits.  Erica Davidson was the perfect tonic, best taken in large quantities at least once a day.  She whistled to herself as she headed back to the cell block.  She wanted to finish the conversation she had started with Liz on the day of the explosion.  Then she would hit the gym and work out some of the sexual tension which was building inside her since Kim's accident and had been heightened by her brief encounter with the gorgeous Governor.

Liz was in her cell.  Franky stood in the doorway watching her put up a photo cutting of yellow roses on her cell wall.  She waited until the older woman had finished the task.

"I've come to see if you've changed your mind," Franky began.

Liz finished putting away the magazine the photo had come from before turning to face Franky.  She saw the younger woman had her arms crossed and was standing nonchalantly against the door frame.  She looked serious.

"Nope," replied Liz casually, almost dismissively.  Franky straightened herself and took a step forward into the cell. "I've already told you Franky, I don't want anything to do with it."

"You're crazy, Liz, if you're not with me then you're against me, and you don't want to be against me."

"No," Liz said emphatically, "I'm not against you Franky, but I cannot support you.  I told you to leave Bea alone, to stay out of it, but you couldn't help yourself, could you? Had to pit those two against each other and then deliberately egg Bea on.  Jacs is dead because of you -"

"Yeah and good riddens to her," Franky interrupted.

"And Bea is facing a murder charge because of you!" Liz was determined to make her point.  "You are so caught up in your power games Franky, and you don't care who you sacrifice in the process. Well I won't be a part of it."  She spoke firmly and deliberately. 

"It's going to be pretty lonely out there on your own with just your principles, Liz, no one to trust, no one to watch your back, no family.  What makes you think you'll last two minutes?"  Franky played her last card.  Prison was a rocky path at the best of times but isolated it was a suicide trip.

Liz snorted. "I thought you were smarter than this, Franky.  I’ll have Bea and whoever decides to join us.”

“Bea!” Franky laughed out loud, “She’s bloody unstable!  I am telling you Liz, the worst thing that could happen to this place is Bea becoming top dog.”

“Well you would say that, wouldn’t you?” Liz pointed out, unmoved by Franky’s arguments.

“Fine,” Franky conceded, “but be sure of your choice Liz because you won’t get another chance.” With these words she turned to leave then paused, “and is this how Doreen feels about things?”

Liz hesitated.  “You’ll have to ask Doreen that yourself,” she said at last and Franky saw the tiniest crack of opportunity.  Who knew how long Bea would be in solitary, and without Doreen, Liz would be exposed.  Her role as peer worker would play in her favour and protect her somewhat from the women.  They trusted her and she could cross boundaries which the other women, including Franky, could not, but if that trust was gone – Franky left the thought unfinished.

Franky smiled to herself.  “I’ll do that, Liz.”

In the gym Franky used the treadmill to run off her frustrations.  She preferred a spin bike to running but the prison gym was not as well equipped as gyms on the outside.  Running was better thinking time anyway and she mulled over how to bring Liz on side.  Jacs never had that.  Liz had walked a neutral line and had managed to get away with it because of her formal position with the women.  Franky felt her position as top dog would be assured with the peer worker publicly supportive of her.

If Liz refused to come round though Franky would just have to weaken her influence.  Liz had already shown Franky how that could be done.  When Liz had gone off the rails, she had been an untidy, unattractive drunk who had spoken her mind too freely and alienated many of the women.  Poor Liz had a weakness and Franky intended to exploit it.


	4. Mind Games

“I think that’s it for today.”  Erica began collecting the law books together.  

“We haven’t finished the chapter on Tort Law,” Franky pointed out.

“It’s late, we can review it at the beginning of our next session,” Erica looked across at Franky and smiled.  “You’re coming along in leaps and bounds, Franky, I’m really pleased with your progress.”

Franky smiled in return. The prisoner sat up, stretched her hands high above her head and took a deep breath. Erica watched the rise and fall of her chest, unable to take her eyes off the tattoo which began on the curve of her breast and disappeared into Franky’s top.  Franky saw her watching and leaned forward, revealing even more of the decorative design.  

“You know Erica,” she said slowly.  “I do it to impress you.”

Franky grinned with satisfaction as she watched Erica blush in response.  “You should do it for yourself, Franky,” the Governor replied seriously.

“Erica, Erica,” the prisoner shook her head sadly but her green eyes flickered with amusement, “where would be the fun in that?”

The library was empty.  It really was late.  Erica had had a full schedule that day and only managed to fit in Franky’s session at the very end of it.  They had been hard at work for almost two hours without a break.  Erica had finished packing up and was watching Franky collect her papers.  She could see small scars on Franky’s fingers caused from years of wielding kitchen knives.  

When Franky looked up their eyes met.  “What is it?” she asked.

A serious mood had settled between them and Erica opened her mouth to speak.  Franky could sense she wanted to say something, something important, but was struggling to find the words.  The prisoner put her hand on Erica’s and squeezed it lightly.  It was an intimate gesture, in many ways more intimate than the kisses they had shared.   Franky’s hand felt warm and firm.  Their fingers interlocked.

“Franky,” the Governor began, “this thing, between us, I don’t know what it is -”

“You admit we have a thing then,” Franky couldn’t help smiling.  

“Franky,” Erica pleaded.

“Relax, Erica,” her green eyes sobered.  “You can trust me.”

“Can I?” Erica made to withdraw her hand but Franky wouldn’t let go.  “Until the next distraction comes along or I’m no longer a challenge.”

“It’s not like that,” Franky said quickly.  “Maybe it was that at first,” she admitted, “but not now.  You get me Erica.”  Franky had said it before, for an audience, and Erica had put it down to being all part of the performance.  “No one gets me like you do.”

Erica was silent.  “I want to believe you, Franky,” she said at last.  This time Franky withdrew her hand and Erica sighed.  

“Maybe I should be asking you the same question, Erica.”  Franky sounded hurt.  “Is this just some straight girl’s lesbian adventure?  Are you running back to your fiancé and getting him off by telling him all about it?”  

Correction, Erica thought, Franky was hurt.  Franky folded her arms against her chest and slumped back in her chair.  Christ, she was like a child sometimes.

“I told you, Franky, I don’t know what this is,” she replied calmly, suddenly feeling back in control, “but rest assured Mark knows nothing about you,” she said wryly.  

She smiled even at the thought of Mark’s response to finding out his fiancée had kissed a girl and liked it.  To her relief Franky smiled too and that was how Fletch found them a moment later.

“Doyle should be in her cell, it’s after lock-up,” he said to Erica.

“We were just coming,” Erica replied, getting up from the table and collecting her pile of books.

When she was back in her cell, lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Franky thought about what Erica had said about wanting to trust her.  What the hell did that mean?  You either trusted someone or you didn’t as far as Franky could tell.  She trusted Erica, mainly because Erica believed in her, and had always believed in her right from the beginning.  For a girl starved of that kind of positive attention for most of her life, it was more addictive than any drug.  Of course that trust had been tested.  Franky could still remember how she felt when she first saw Erica’s engagement ring and the moment in the Governor’s office when Channing had repeated what Erica had said about not wasting time on her.  Both those things had hurt but the trust remained.

Well if Erica didn’t trust her then Franky would keep trying.  That first kiss had been a break through.  Despite trying to mask it through anger, Franky had seen Erica’s disbelief then fear when she had realised what was happening.  Franky was sure the fear had stemmed, not from what Franky would do, but from the Governor’s own response to it.  Franky had forced the issue and the results had been worth it.  The second kiss had been no less unexpected but the Governor had welcomed it.  Franky had kissed enough girls to recognise an eager participant.  Tonight, though, something important had happened.  For the first time Erica had acknowledged their relationship was more than just prisoner and Governor.  It was also the first time Erica had initiated a conversation which was personal rather than professional.  Erica Davidson was conflicted, Franky could see that as clear as day, and she knew she was forcing the older woman to face things about herself which she had probably buried deep inside.  It might be a rocky road ahead but Franky was well used to difficult paths and obstacles.  If she wanted something she went for it.

Just like the top dog position.  Franky had no intention of being just some lackey for Bea Smith when she could be calling the shots.  Franky had cornered Doreen that morning.  Liz had been up at the medical unit visiting the women injured from the explosion.  Doreen and Boomer had been having a cup of tea in the communal area when Franky had perched herself on the edge of the table invading Doreen’s personal space.

“So, Liz tells me you might be thinking of joining with Bea,” she had said without preliminaries.  Doreen had choked on her tea.  “That true?”  Doreen hadn’t known where to look.  “Huh?”  Franky had stared down at her.  “Coz Bea is trouble, Doreen.”

“It’s not personal, Franky, but me and Liz, we like Bea, and look how she stood up to Jacs.  Liz thinks Bea could be good for everyone,” Doreen had sounded apologetic.  She had looked nervously across to Boomer as though expecting an attack from that quarter.  Everyone knew Boomer had a blind allegiance to Franky and wouldn’t take kindly to any perceived action against her.  

“Liz huh?” Franky had questioned.  “You’re putting a lot of faith in Liz, Doreen, what if she’s wrong about Bea?”

“She’s not Franky, Liz has good judgement,” Doreen had replied seriously.

“When she’s sober maybe,” Franky had agreed.  “But what if she’s drunk?”

 “Well, she’s not drinking,” Doreen had pointed out.  “What happened before was just the stress of her appeal.”

“Was it?” Franky had questioned.  She had leant in, her presence intimidating.  “Have you asked her Doreen, straight out whether she’s drinking? Coz maybe you should before you decide to throw your support behind her ideas.” 

Franky had let the thought sink in before she stood up and moved away allowing Doreen her space again.  Doreen had immediately got up from the table and ditched her tea into the sink.  She had walked towards her cell and Franky had watched her with a satisfied smile.  When she had sat down across from Boomer, she had noticed the big woman was looking puzzled.

“Why’d you say that about Liz, Franks?” she had asked with a frown.

“I want Doreen to ask Liz straight out about her drinking,” Franky had replied.

“But why?”  Boomer had stared at Franky with confusion.  “She’ll only deny it.”

Franky had laughed.  “I hope so, Boomer, I hope so,” she had replied.

Boomer didn’t really understand what Franky was on about much of the time and this was another of those times.  So she had ignored her comment and instead had suggested eagerly, “Franky, let’s go round up some of the others for a game.” 

Franky had bounced out of her chair and tapped the table with the palms of her hands, suddenly feeling very pleased with herself.  “Can’t Booms, I am busy busy, people to see, places to be,” and with a wink and a saucy smile she had sauntered out.

In her cell Franky enjoyed reliving the conversation in her mind, not realising what she had just set in play would quickly spin out of control.


	5. Losing Control

Franky was in the yard when Liz approached her.  She watched the blonde woman walk purposely towards her.  There was a steely look on her face which could mean only one thing.  Doreen had spoken to Liz.

“So this is the game, is it Franky?” Liz demanded when she was close enough for Franky to hear but no one else.  “Divide and conquer?”

“Jeez Liz, you’re a little paranoid, don’t you think?” was Franky’s rejoinder, “but I guess alcohol will do that.”

“Oh yes,” Liz nodded empathetically, “Doreen told me what you said to her, Franky, about how you’d tried to get into her head.  Didn’t work though, just so you know,” Liz smiled grimly.

“No?” Franky looked at her quizzically.

“No!  Doreen knows I’m sober and have been since the days after the Our Journey event. So you better back off, Franky.”  Liz stuck her finger in the younger woman’s chest.

Franky had been sitting on one of the tables, her feet propped on the bench, but she stood up in response to Liz’s intimidation tactic.  She folded her arms against her chest.

“Or what, Liz?”

“You don’t want to open that door, Franky,” she warned.

Franky was distracted when she saw Erica and Vera had entered the yard.  She looked at Liz briefly.  “Why don’t you bugger off, hey Liz?  I’ve got some business with the Governor.”  She set off to intercept them.  Liz stayed where she was – watching.

“Miss Davidson,” Franky called.  The Governor was wearing a smart skirt and jacket, which emphasised her slim curves and long legs.  Franky admired the look as she approached. 

Erica looked wary, as she usually did when Franky approached her publicly.  Vera hovered and was watching Franky curiously.  “What is it, Franky?” she asked.

“I’m having trouble with the Tort chapter, it’s confusing, perhaps you could explain it to me,” Franky looked hopeful.

Erica hesitated.  “Your next session isn’t until next week,” she reminded her, conscious of Vera’s presence.  Her deputy had already spoken to Erica about Franky taking advantage.

“It wouldn’t take long,” Franky raised her eyebrows suggestively.  “I’d only take as much time as you can spare,” her green eyes pleaded silently with her. 

Erica felt herself giving way.  She looked away, towards the basketball court and the game in progress.  “Come to my office later, after six, I’ll have some time then,” she conceded.

Franky grinned and sauntered off towards the court where one of the girls threw the ball to her and she entered the game with energy.

Erica wondered how Franky was able to manipulate her so easily.  She could sense Vera was about to say something on the subject and attempted to cut her off with a question about the progress of the injured women.

As she listened to the response, she watched the basketball game.  Franky was sledging the opposing team and using her physical presence to intimidate them.  Her arm was still bandaged from the burn but she seemed not to be bothered by it.  Erica admired her courage as she took risks to gain and maintain possession of the ball.  She was quick on her feet and sure footed however and rarely looked as though she would fall.  Franky’s strong physical presence was part of her attraction as was her quick smile and audacity.

She and Vera continued on their way.  They had a meeting with the catering contractors to discuss reducing costs associated with the prison meals.  With the kitchen out of commission, they had been forced to employ an outside firm to assist with meal-times in a temporary arrangement until the repairs could be completed. It had put a serious dent in the budget and Erica had had no choice but to cut back on some of the programs she had instigated at the beginning of her tenure.  The insurance would cover the cost of the repairs but not the catering costs. 

Franky saw them leave out of the corner of her eye.  She landed a shot in the hoop then looked for Liz and found her sitting with Doreen at one of the tables.  She tossed the ball across to one of her team-mates and slipped away to the main building.  She wanted to see Rox from cell block J and conduct some business before the others had returned to their cells.

Rox was a tall woman with short blonde hair and a healthy smuggling operation.  She and Franky did regular business when Franky needed to bring something in from the outside.  Rox had one of the guards on the take, which made her pretty reliable and could turn around requests within twenty-four hours if necessary.

She found her in the toilet block mopping floors.  “All good, Rox?” she asked, checking the stalls to ensure there was no one to overhear their conversation.

“Hey Franky,” the blonde nodded.  “All good,” she went over to the cleaning trolley and pulled off a package which had been taped to the underneath of the trolley.  She handed it to Franky.  “Didn’t know you were a drinker, Franky,” she said as she handed it over.  “How will you get them to the cells?”   

Franky tore open the package to reveal four small bottles of vodka.  She quickly arranged them in a line and rearranged the tape so they were stuck together in a single line.  She stripped off her top revealing a toned midriff.  Just below her sports bra, Franky taped the bottles across the top of her stomach.  Rox looked on in admiration.  Once Franky had put her baggy long-sleeved top on over her tank top, Rox could not tell she was carrying anything.  “Nice,” she said.

“Usual payment?” Franky asked and Rox nodded.  “Nice doing business, Rox,” Franky grinned as they knuckle punched.

Franky returned to cell block H.  It was empty.  All the women were enjoying the sunshine while they could.  In Liz’s cell she looked around quickly scouting for a suitable hiding place which Liz was unlikely to discover accidently.  She remembered the tape.  It was strong industrial style duct tape, good for a few applications.  She slid under Liz’s bed and carefully pulled the tape away from her skin.  She arranged the bottles so they were stuck securely to the bottom of the bed frame near the wall.  She slid out and went to the door of the cell.  Try as she might she could not see the bottles from the doorway.  Perfect, she thought to herself, as long as they remained stuck.

The afternoon went by slowly.  After lunch, which consisted of overcooked, half cold vegetables and something which could only be described as fatty gravy with suspicious lumps that reminded Franky of something you’d find in tinned cat food, she was working in the laundry.  Since Jacs' departure, Franky had claimed the steam press and no one had argued with her.  From her vantage point she watched the others messing around and laughing and wished she was amongst them.  She found the work on the press a bit tedious but Jacs had made it such a status symbol, Franky felt she had to be the one to operate it.

As she worked she thought about Liz.  She was convinced Liz was trying to bluff her.  She had nothing on Franky except Meg Jackson.  Her eyes went automatically to the burly prison guard and she watched as Will did admin in the small office.  He would tear her apart if he knew what she had done.  Oh yes, she was exposed there, Franky acknowledged. 

Meg was dead.  Franky had killed her albeit accidently.  But, Franky considered further, everyone thought Jacs had killed Meg and Jacs was no longer around to deny it.  Even if Liz began accusing Franky, no one would believe her.  The only evidence had been planted on Jacs and, thanks to Liz, she had been well and truly stitched up.  It was game over as far as Franky could tell.  She looked across to Liz only to find that woman watching her intently.  She blew her a kiss and laughed as Liz looked away in disgust.

Finally she walked into the Governor’s office.  She’d been waiting all day for this.  It was so late it was getting dark.  Erica had switched on the lights.  She looked up as Franky entered, unable to keep from smiling.  “So, what is the problem with Tort law, Franky?” she asked, putting down her pen.

Franky shrugged.  “Nothing in particular,” she admitted as she sat down.

Erica shook her head.  “Let me guess, you just wanted to see me?”

Franky leant forward and looked at her intently for a moment.  “Yes,” she said at last.  She continued to study Erica, absorbing every last detail of her.  The small laughter lines around her eyes, the cute nose, those kissable lips, the way her hair, casually put up, had come down in wisps around her face.  Franky stood up and walked towards the door.

“Franky?” she could hear the question in Erica’s voice. 

At the door Franky turned around, reached out and switched off the light.  Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the fading light.  She could see Erica was still at her desk but she could no longer see her expression.  “But not just that,” she replied.  There was no one around, all the office staff had left some time ago.  “Come here,” she commanded and was pleased to see Erica did not hesitate.

Franky took hold of her hips and manoeuvred her quickly against the wall near the door.  It was the same spot where they had first kissed.  Franky had her pinned against the wall as her lips travelled down her neck to her throat.  Her hands slid up Erica’s waist until her hands found her breasts. Her thumbs massaged Erica’s nipples through the thin material of her blouse.  Erica’s response was immediate.  Franky’s lips moved to her mouth, forceful, and demanding and Erica relished it. 

“I’ve thought about it,” Franky murmured in her ear a moment later.  “I know what this is,” Erica waited for her next words.  “It’s your dirty, little secret.”

Erica gasped.  The words were so erotic she couldn’t think straight to respond.  Instead she pulled off Franky’s top and found the tattoo on her breast which Erica could see in the twilight vanished into her bra.  She traced the pattern with her lips.  Franky was unbuttoning her blouse and she felt her tongue on her bare skin.  The prisoner undid the zip of her skirt and it dropped to the ground.  Erica was wearing matching French knickers and bra, and she was still wearing her heels.  Franky groaned as she brought her hands round Erica’s arse and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply.

“Franky,” Erica pleaded and Franky obliged, slipping her hand inside those sexy knickers and finding Erica was more than ready for her.  She was pleased Erica was so aroused but knew it wouldn’t take much for the Governor to climax.  She wanted to savour the moment for as long as she could so she teased Erica taking her so far then retreating.  She shifted Erica into an easier position where she could service her properly causing Erica to move against her hand desperately.

Franky chuckled softly.  “Patience Erica, it will be worth it.”

Christ, it was worth it!  When Franky finally let her come, the release was so intense Erica felt herself buckle.  Franky took her weight and carefully brought her to the ground.  She kissed her before pulling back and trying to interpret the expression in Erica’s eyes.  It was almost dark and she could barely see her to know what she was thinking.  She reached out and brushed her cheek lightly with her hand.  Erica took her hand and their fingers interlocked before dropping into Erica’s lap.  Franky sighed and sat back against the wall next to her.


	6. No Control

Franky was dreaming.  She was in a room she didn’t recognise and it was full of smoke.  She was looking for someone but she couldn’t remember who.  She dropped to the floor where the smoke was less and she was able to breathe a little easier.  She covered her nose and mouth with her arm which stopped some of the smoke but made it more difficult to crawl forward.  She made slow progress and her eyes were streaming from the effects of the smoke.  She bumped into a wall and had to adjust her direction.  She could see the fire ahead and beyond it she could see Erica, slumped against something which Franky couldn’t make out.  Suddenly Liz was next to her, pulling on her arm and telling her it was time to go because they’d be late.  She fought Liz off but it was exhausting and she was losing precious minutes.  She turned back anxiously towards the fire.  She would have to go through the fire to get to Erica.  It seemed an impossible task.  As she considered her options a part of the roof fell in where Erica was lying.  

Franky woke in a sweat.  It was dark still, although it was never completely dark in prison.  Lights shone through the window and crept into her cell from under the door.  She kicked off her blanket and sheet and got up.  She drank a glass of water thirstily and looked back towards her bed, but was reluctant to go straight back to sleep in case the dream was waiting for her.  She dropped to the floor instead and began doing push-ups.  She got to fifty before she collapsed and rolled onto her back.  The floor was cold and hard and real, it felt comforting.

She thought about Erica, picturing her, not as she had seen her in the dream but as she had last seen her.  She had been in the library studying when she had heard Erica’s voice.  She had looked up from her books and saw the Governor had entered the library with a collection of suits.  She was explaining some of the educational programs she had established.  The suits were nodding and looking about with interest, one of them asked Erica a question.  Franky had watched intently, willing Erica to look her way.  The Governor had been dressed to impress and Franky wondered if the suits were the government people who controlled the purse strings.  As she spoke her eyes scanned the room but paused when they reached Franky.  Their eyes met.  It was the first time they had seen each other since that night in the Governor’s office.  Erica was all poise and didn’t even blink. Franky had looked for a reaction and when she didn’t get one, she bit her bottom lip and tilted her head to the side, a slight frown creasing her brow.  Erica had led the suits out of the library for the next stage of their tour.

Franky wondered how Erica was feeling.  That had been two days ago and there had been no sign of the Governor since.  Today they would meet for their tutoring session though and she would be able to talk to Erica and gauge what she was thinking.  She relaxed a little and crawled back into bed where she slept without dreaming.

“It’s herbal,” Franky explained later that morning.  She and Boomer were drinking tea in the communal area.  

Boomer sniffed Franky’s tea suspiciously, “it smells like strawberries,” she said at last.

“Mmm,” Franky agreed.  “It is berry flavoured.  Want some?”  Boomer shook her head, sipping her own strong, milky brew which was well sweetened with three sugars.  “You know you should try new things more, Boomer, it is how you find out if you like things.”

“I like regular tea,” Boomer replied.  “Where do you get that stuff anyway?”  It certainly wasn’t regulation prison issue.

“Rox brings it in for me.  Her man always brings in a bunch of stuff when he visits.”

“I thought coffee was your thing,” Boomer said as she sipped.  “Mmm good,” she smiled happily.

Franky chuckled at Boomer’s expression.  “It is, on the outside, but the chance of a decent coffee in here is Buckley’s.”

There were footsteps in the corridor and Kim wandered in.  She smiled broadly when she saw Franky and bounced across the small space and fell in her lap.  “Hiya Franky, miss me?” she asked and put her arms around her.

Franky laughed and disentangled herself.  She held Kim at arm’s length and studied her closely.  “Are you all right?”

Kim sat down next her, their arms touching, and put her head on Franky’s shoulder.  “Yep, fine.  I had some respiratory complications, which is why they kept me in the medical unit for so long.  What did I miss?” she looked from Franky to Boomer expectantly.  

“Nothing,” Franky said quickly.

“Franky is top dog for sure now,” Boomer informed her.  “No one is causing any trouble.  Jess had her baby but I guess you knew that.  The food they are bringing in is disgusting, I must have lost at least five kilos, hey maybe they should try that firm on the Biggest Loser.”  Boomer continued to expand on the short-comings of the meals until she realised she was late for her literacy class.

Left alone with Franky, Kim led her into Franky’s cell for some privacy.  She reached up and kissed Franky and pushed her back onto the bed.  “I’ve been thinking about this for ages,” she murmured as pushed up Franky’s top and trailed light kisses up the toned torso.  Her fingers found the waistband of Franky’s sweatpants.

There were brisk footsteps outside and Franky sat up and pulled down her top as the Governor appeared in the doorway with one of the guards just behind her.  Her eyes took in the scene and she frowned slightly.  “Kim, you’re feeling better?” was all she said.

The slight girl nodded. “Good as new,” she said.  

There was a pregnant pause.  Franky, who had been studying the floor, stole a look at Erica.  She looked distant and Franky could have kicked herself for letting Kim fall all over her before she’d been back two seconds.  Shit, this was awkward, she thought to herself.  She wondered what Erica had seen or whether the Governor’s imagination was doing all the work.

“I came to say we’ll have to delay our session today, Franky,” Erica stated without emotion.

Franky felt the full force of her disappointment.  “We’ll still have it though,” she stated hopefully, her eyes pleading with Erica. “I’d hate to lose ground,” she added.

Erica studied her for a moment then nodded briefly.  “Yes, all right, we can meet in the library at the end of the day.”  Franky sighed with relief.  

“So where were we?” Kim asked when they were alone again.  

Franky looked apologetic.  “I’ve got to do some study, how about you go and catch up with the others?  We can meet up later.”

Kim kissed her.  “I really missed you, Franky,” she let her forehead rest against Franky’s. “They told me what you did,” she added suddenly.  “You risked your life for me.  I’ll never forget that,” she said sincerely.

Franky looked uncomfortable. “You’re family, Kim,” she replied as though that explained it all and to Franky, it did.

She arrived in the library early.  Erica was not there.  She opened her books and began reading.  She was trying to concentrate but half her mind was focussed on the imminent arrival of the Governor.  She had spent the afternoon trying to second guess Erica’s state of mind and it was driving her crazy.  She just wanted to see her and reassure herself that everything was all right.

Women left the library but still Franky waited.  It started to get dark.  She had missed dinner.  Finally one of the guards approached.  “You need to get back to your cell, Doyle, it is almost lock-up.”

“I’m waiting for the Governor,” Franky said firmly.

“Not anymore you’re not,” the guard replied.  “Get moving.”

Franky reluctantly packed up her books, dawdling in the hope Erica would show up but finally she had no choice but to return to her cell. Erica had just been held up that was all it was, she told herself.  Never before had she felt the restrictions of prison so much.  She had no control over how and when she might see Erica and resolve her angst.  The games she played were just that, just a pretence to help her forget how little control she really had.


	7. Money Talks

Erica was in her office with Channing.  He had arrived unexpectedly as Erica had been packing up.  He knew it annoyed her that he refused to make appointments like everyone else but just turned up expecting Erica to drop everything.  It was all part of his scheme to keep her slightly off balance and therefore vulnerable.  

“I’m due at a tutoring session with Franky Doyle,” she had said as he sat down.

Channing raised his eyebrows.  “This late?”

“I couldn’t fit her in earlier,” Erica explained, irritated that she felt the need to explain herself to him.

“Well she can wait,” Channing dismissed the appointment as nothing important.  

Erica felt annoyed.  “You were the one who was so keen for Franky to pursue further studies and insisted I should give her whatever she demanded,” she reminded him.

“And I still am,” Channing smiled patronisingly.  “But right now there are more important things to discuss.”

Erica sighed and leant forward with her elbows on her desk.  “Fine, what did you want to discuss?”  

“The budget,” he began.  “I’ve seen the quarterly figures, it is a bloody disaster, Erica.”

Erica shook her head in disbelief.  “Well, what did you expect, Derek?  The fire has meant unexpected costs that just cannot be accommodated in the existing budget.  We need an injection of funds.”

“Well that isn’t going to happen, we are in an election year, the government isn’t interested in spending money unless it equates to votes and there are no votes in anything associated with women’s prisons.”  Channing put his elbows on the arms of the chair, interlocked his fingers and tapped his thumbs against his chin as he looked at her intently.  “So, Erica,” he said at last.  “What are you going to do to get costs down?”

Christ, he was a bastard, she thought, a charming bastard at times but ever since she knocked him back the charm had been missing.  She needed him on side but she couldn’t help feeling he was working against her.

“Well, we could cut back on the staff shifts, reduce the overtime and freeze recruitment, that should save us something,” she offered.

“From what I hear, the officers are already stretched beyond what is reasonable, so I don’t think that is the answer.”   Erica wondered who had been complaining to Channing.  So much for working together as a team, she thought, instead her staff were white anting.  “Clearly it is time to cut back on the programs,” Channing stated.

“I already have cut back on the educational programs,” Erica insisted.  “We can’t cut back any more or they’ll be as good as gone.”

“Desperate times, Erica,” Channing didn’t finish the phrase.

Suddenly she realised Channing had already decided what needed to be done to rescue the budget.  He had always intended to sacrifice her programs.  He never cared about them, unless they were presenting a good news story in the press, and he didn’t give a toss about the women.

“Wait,” she said quickly.  “You have to give me a chance to find another way.”

“Fine,” Channing stood up.  “I’ve got a budget meeting tomorrow morning at 9am.  You have until then to put together a viable alternative or the programs go.”

Erica spent the next few hours going through the budget line by line, trying to see where she might be able to make savings.  It was hopeless, she decided, and rubbed her brow.  There was no way she could do it.  Any adjustments would just be chipping away and she needed an avalanche.

She remembered Franky would be waiting for her in the library.  She got up and left the office, intending to apologise to Franky and telling her they would have to defer their session again.  When she got to the library though it was in darkness and she realised it was even later than she had thought.

She hesitated.  Franky would be back in her cell now.  It would seem odd to visit her there this late.  What if she walked in on Kim and Franky again?  That would be awkward.  Still, she wanted to see Franky and let her know she had not forgotten about her.  She could do that tomorrow of course, she thought as she walked towards cell block H.  She had to pass the guard’s office and thought through numerous excuses for going to the cells so late but the office was empty.  The guard must be on a toilet break, she assumed with relief.

The communal area of cell block H was quiet.  All the women were in their cells.  Franky’s door was closed.  Erica opened it and slipped inside.  The cell was in darkness.

“Franky?” Erica whispered.  

There was movement on the bed.  Franky rolled over and saw Erica silhouetted against the light from the corridor.  Franky blinked and put her arm over her eyes.  “Erica?” she sounded surprised.  Erica closed the door behind her and came into the cell.  “I waited for you,” Franky said.

Those words sounded so vulnerable to Erica.  “I know, I’m sorry Franky, Channing turned up and I couldn’t get away.”

Franky sat up.  “He’s been with you all this time?” she sounded suspicious.

“No,” Erica laughed softly.  “He says the budget is in the toilet and I have to cut all my programs.  I’ve been trying to see if there is a way to reduce the spend without losing the programs.  It’s no good though,” she sighed, wondering why she was telling Franky this but feeling relieved to be telling someone.  “We need money basically.”

Franky was silent. “You need one of those networks to do a reality TV show on Wentworth,” she offered at last.  “They would pay a bucket load of cash to get inside these walls.”

Erica looked at her.  “Christ, that is genius,” she said at last.  “You should be on the payroll.”

Franky looked pleased with herself.  “You couldn’t afford me,” she replied with a satisfied smile.

“Well apparently not,” Erica smiled in return.

“Although,” Franky said thoughtfully.  “I’d accept payment in kind,” she stood up and walked towards Erica.

Erica watched nervously.  Franky was wearing knickers and a sleeveless top and nothing else.  “What here?” she looked towards the door of the cell.

Franky put her hands on Erica’s hips and leant in.  “Why not,” she murmured, “it’s a little exciting, don’t you think?”  She kissed Erica then pulled away, “and dangerous.” She kissed her again and Erica could taste spearmint.  “I think you like dangerous, Erica.”  Somehow Franky had manoeuvred them towards the bed and Erica could feel the edge of it pushing against her leg.  “Don’t you?” 

“Yes,” admitted Erica breathlessly as she tore off Franky’s top and sank onto the bed.  Franky seemed to know exactly what to say to her to make her lose all rational thought.  She explored Franky with her lips, marvelling in the firm softness of her breasts, while Franky worked on divesting Erica first of her blouse and bra and then her pants.  She was lying against the rough blanket with Franky astride her, looking down at her in admiration then taking her wrists and putting them above her head.  She felt powerless, and excited, and as Franky worked her way down Erica’s body slowly exploring and finding each sensitive spot, she squirmed against her impatiently.  

Franky’s hands moved from her wrists to her French knickers.  She peeled them off then continued to explore Erica with her tongue.  Erica gasped and felt herself reach the brink too easily.  Franky seemed to know exactly what Erica wanted.  She couldn’t wait a moment longer and felt her toes curl as she climaxed.  

Franky kissed her.  She no longer tasted of spearmint.  Erica could see Franky watching her as she lay along the length of her.  The Governor slid her hand down Franky’s toned midriff to the top of her knickers where she paused, still watching Franky who raised her eyebrows suggestively.  She slid her hand inside and Franky moved to allow her better access.  She watched Franky intently gauging her success by Franky’s reaction.  It didn’t take much.  Franky was so turned on by the thought of the Governor naked in her cell, she had been well and truly ready for her and even as inexperienced as she was, Erica’s fingers found their mark.

“When is the meeting?” Franky asked a little while later.  She was watching Erica get dressed.

“Tomorrow at nine,” Erica attempted to tidy her hair.

“Here then,” Franky held out a piece of paper.  “It is the name and number of the producer from the cooking show I was on.  I’m pretty sure they would jump at the chance to do a follow up documentary on me in prison.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Erica asked as she took the paper.

Franky shrugged.  “I wouldn’t do it for just anyone,” she said with a grin, “but if the Governor is asking –”

Erica frowned.  “Franky, don’t do it just for me.”  She crouched down in front of Franky, who was lying on the bed, and looked at her with a serious expression.  “I mean it.”

“It’s ok Erica, I’m not,” she said reassuringly.  “I’m doing it to keep my law degree alive.”

Erica didn’t believe her but as this looked to be her only chance to save the programs she put aside her doubts and didn’t question Franky further. 


	8. Total Control

Erica was outside the board room at 8.45.  There was no way she was letting Channing hoodwink her out of her chance to save her programs.  He arrived at 8.55 and looked surprised to see the Governor.

"All right, Erica, what have you got for me to take to them?" He said with no real expectation.

Erica shook her head. "My solution, my pitch, Derek," she didn't trust him to do the right thing by her. "I'm going in with you."

She could see he was irritated but before he could speak, the Departmental representatives arrived.  They assumed Erica was Channing's legitimate invitee and ushered them both into the room.

Erica had to use all her persuasive skills to convince the Department to agree to a documentary shot in the prison.  They were very concerned about the exposure and the possible negative spin that would be given.

"I've spoken with the producer and she has assured me that we will have the power to dictate what can and cannot be filmed and final veto over the end product.  They are interested in Franky Doyle's journey, not in doing an exposé on women's prisons."

In the end though, it was the insane dollar figure that the network indicated they might be prepared to pay which convinced the Department to let Erica pursue negotiations.

"How do you know Doyle will even be prepared to be involved?" They had asked.

"Of course, I would have to speak to her about it but I'm confident I can get her to agree," Erica replied. 

Channing entered the discussion for the first time.  "I've had Erica work closely with Doyle lately.  I recognised her potential and she has proved to be one of our success stories."

The Departmental representatives smiled at Channing.  Erica plastered a smile on her own face.  Smug, smarmy, son of a bitch! She sat in silence as Channing expanded on the educational programs implying his own interest and encouragement of them.  Christ, he really was an ambitious bastard who would stop at nothing for self-promotion, she thought.

Franky was in the yard with Kim and Boomer when she saw Erica enter the walkway from the main building.  Vera was with her.  She made a beeline for the fence and walked alongside the Governor.

“All good, Miss Davidson?” she asked with a meaningful look.

It was early afternoon, well after the appointed time for the budget meeting that morning.  Erica smiled distractedly as she scanned the yard.  “All good,” she replied with a nod. 

Franky smiled with satisfaction.  “You know Miss Davidson,” she continued, “you owe me a tutoring session.”  She could see Vera frown out of the corner of her eye.

“We’ll reschedule,” Erica promised.  She was reluctant to meet Franky’s eyes. Memories of the previous evening flooded her mind.  She felt as though everything she was thinking would be reflected on her face and Vera would have no trouble seeing it.  She saw Liz watching them and wondered what she knew.  Surely Franky wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell anyone.

“Can’t wait,” Franky replied with a suggestive smile.

Erica passed thankfully through the doors at the other end of the walkway.  “Are you sure you can trust her?” Vera asked once they were inside.

“What?” Erica asked quickly.  Christ, was it really that obvious?

“On a documentary show?” Vera clarified.  Erica had briefed her on the outcome of the budget meeting.  Vera had serious concerns about the concept, which she was convinced would blow up in their faces.  

“Just trust me Vera, I can handle Franky,” she said with more conviction than she felt.  "Has there been any trouble?" The Governor changed the subject.

"No, it’s very quiet," Vera replied.  "Like the calm before a storm."

"Well let's hope not," Erica said optimistically.  "Have you seen Channing in the corridors lately," she asked casually.

"No," her deputy replied, "Why?"

"Just something he said, as though he'd been chatting with the officers. I thought he must have been visiting." Erica said vaguely.

"Um no, as I said, not that I'm aware of,” Vera shook her head.  ““I think we should do a raid,” she changed the subject.  “Will is pretty sure there is gear coming in somehow.  All the women hurt in the explosion are back from medical now and the supply chain seems to have opened up again.”

“All right, have the officers turn over the cells,” agreed Erica.  “The prison needs to be clean if there are cameras coming in.”

“Dogs would be more effective,” Vera stated.

“Dogs are expensive,” countered Erica, “see what a manual raid turns up first.”

In the yard Franky was returning to Kim and Boomer when Liz fell into step with her.  “Changed your mind yet, Liz?” Franky asked, not because she had any expectation that Liz had but wanted to make the point that until she had, they had nothing else to talk about.

“Now come on Franky,” Liz said encouragingly.  “There’s no need to be like that.  I’m still peer worker, and you can’t avoid talking to me.”

Franky put her arm around Kim.  “Peer worker for now, until you hit the booze again, then what?”  She studied the older woman.  “Hey Liz?”

Liz shook her head.  She saw Kim and Boomer looking at her curiously.  “I told you Franky, I am sober,” she said firmly.

Franky laughed.  “You’re a liability Liz, and you will let down the women just like you did before.  I bet the Governor is wishing she never reinstated you.”

“Well, you’re always cosying up to the Governor, aren’t you Franky?” Liz said pointedly.  “Is that what you tell her in your private chats?” Liz watched for Franky’s reaction. 

“Why don’t you look after your own shit, Liz,” Franky said angrily, defensively. 

Liz smiled.  “Hit a nerve, did I?” she laughed as she walked away.

The raid came in the early hours of the morning.  Simultaneous searches were conducted in each cell block. They netted a raft of contraband and it resulted in numerous prisoners being put in the slot.  One of them was Liz when bottles of vodka were found under her bed.  Franky watched from outside her own cell, where she'd been instructed to wait, as Liz was led away. She smiled grimly.

Doreen approached her. "You had something to do with this, Franky," she accused her.

"All I did Doreen, was remind you of what Liz was like," Franky countered, "and it looks like I was right."

Erica reviewed the list of offenders in her office when she arrived at work.  “Do you think this will close down supply?” she asked Vera as she read.  She was relieved to see Franky’s name did not feature.

“For the time being,” her Deputy replied.

“All right, we’ll instigate regular raids from here on in.”  A name caught her attention.  “Christ, what the hell is Liz’s name doing here?”

Vera referred to her own list.  “Um, she had a stash of vodka.”

“She’s drinking?” Vera shrugged.  “Great!  That is all we need, the peer worker off the rails again.  Bring her to my office, will you?”  She changed her mind.  “No, don’t, I have a meeting with that network producer this morning. I’ll visit her in the slot later.”

“Perhaps I should attend that meeting,” Vera offered as she was leaving.

“No need, it is just a preliminary discussion,” Erica did not want Vera involved in the early negotiations.  Her deputy would only throw up objections and difficulties.  “I’ll need you at the later meetings though, once we are sorting out the logistics.” 

The network producer was Angela Stone.  She was a tall, confident woman dressed simply in a black skirt and jacket with striking red heels.  “I didn’t know what to wear to a prison,” she smiled as she shook hands with Erica.  “I went for demure but thought the shoes might give the women a lift.”

Erica smiled in return.  “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms Stone, can I get you a coffee or tea?”

“Call me Angela, and a coffee would be excellent.”  She looked around the office as Erica put in the request to her secretary.

“Please take a seat,” Erica also sat down.  “When I spoke with you on the phone, you indicated an interest in doing a documentary on Franky Doyle.  I’ve managed to get executive support for the concept but obviously you and I will need to work through the details so I can assure the Department that the prison’s best interests are being looked after.”

“Of course,” Angela nodded.  “Look, Miss Davidson, the fact is our ratings went through the roof after the incident between Franky and Mike.  They were pretty healthy before it and a lot of that had to do with the personality clash between the two.  We received an incredible number of emails in the weeks following the event from viewers who were sympathetic to Franky’s situation.  She is funny and engaging and I think a documentary will get a huge response.  So obviously we are very keen.”

Erica felt relieved.  “Good.”  

The coffee arrived and Angela stirred in a sugar and added milk.  She looked keenly at Erica.  “How is Franky coping with prison?”

“She is one of the survivors.  She has a lot of energy and bravado which the other women admire.  Physically she is able to hold her own and that is important in prison.  You need to be able to defend yourself or have alliances with other inmates who can protect you.  Franky has also been furthering her education in one of our programs.  I would definitely call her one of our successes.  Of course she is still working through some issues around anger management and abandonment.  It is not all plain sailing,” Erica admitted.

“Well that just makes a better story,” Angela sipped her coffee.  “The plan would be to track Franky for a few days to get some footage of what life is like for her inside and how she interacts with the other women and the guards.  We’d also like to do some one on one interviews with Franky, some of her fellow inmates and people like yourself.  Sound reasonable?”

“Yes,” Erica tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong with those scenarios.  She was saving her programs. “It is critical we have final say though, that is a showstopper I’m afraid.”

Angela nodded.  “I will keep you in the loop all the way, Miss Davidson, there will be no surprises in the final product.  You will have total control over what goes to air,” she assured her.  They agreed on a price and talked through more of the detail before Erica said she would have a contract sent over to the network.

“I’ll need to talk to Franky, to make sure she will participate, can you arrange that?”  Angela finished with.

“Of course,” Erica picked up the phone and asked for Franky Doyle to be brought to her office.  


	9. Information is Power

Franky entered the office a short time later.  She grinned when she saw Angela.

"Angie,” she drew in her breath, “looking hot, girl!" 

Angela Stone smiled.  "Still flirting, Franky," she laughed.  It was a light, attractive laugh.

"Girl's gotta try," was Franky's response and she winked at the producer. "Right?"

Erica watched, fascinated by the exchange.  This was someone who had known Franky on the outside before she became a criminal. When she’d had choices and freedom and wasn’t just another object in the criminal justice system.  Clearly Franky had fancied Angela but it did not look as though the producer had fallen for Franky's charms like the Governor had.  Erica wondered if Franky had a thing for women in positions of power or influence.

"Miss Davidson has been telling me how well you're doing, Franky," Angela offered.

"Has she now?" Franky asked and her glance flicked across to Erica then back to Angela.  “Well, she’s my biggest fan, you know.”  She raised her eyebrows and gave a quick smile.

“Has Miss Davidson explained why I’m here?” Angela asked as she sat down.  

Franky also sat down, looking relaxed and confident.  She tilted her head to one side and smiled.  “You want to film me.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Angela.  “Are you okay with that?” 

“Well, I’ve got a busy schedule,” Franky frowned, “but I guess I could fit you in.”  

“Good,” Angela explained the likely format for filming.  “We will be asking you some blunt questions about how you are handling prison and your experience in here.  I need to know you can answer them candidly.  You are the story, Franky.”

Franky nodded.  “Sure,” she agreed.  

Angela hesitated.  “And your father?  Would you be prepared to talk about him?”  

Erica saw Franky tense.  The prisoner folded her arms across her chest.  “No,” she said firmly.  “This has nothing to do with my father.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Angela replied. 

Erica intervened.  “If Franky doesn’t want to talk about her father then she doesn’t have to.  Consider that topic off limits,” she said firmly.    

Angela surrendered graciously.  “Very well,” she looked from Franky to Erica and smiled.  “Okay then, I think that is everything for now.”  She stood up and shook hands with Franky then Erica.  “We’ll talk soon,” she said to Erica.  

Erica handed Angela over to her secretary to be escorted out of the prison.  She returned to her office and closed the door.  Franky followed her with her eyes as Erica walked around her chair and propped on her desk in front of Franky.

She looked intently at the prisoner.  Franky raised her eyebrows and gave her a questioning look.

“We need to talk,” Erica said at last.

Franky looked at her quizzically.  “I can think of something better to do,” she said with a slow smile.

“I’m serious, Franky,” she watched as the prisoner shrugged her shoulders in resigned acceptance.

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” the younger woman asked.

“It’s important no one finds out about us,” the Governor frowned.  “You understand that right?”

Franky was offended.  “Sure Erica, I understand that perfectly.”  She crossed her arms defensively.

“Franky,” Erica sighed.

“Don’t worry Erica, your secret is safe with me,” she stood up.  “Can I go now?”

“Franky,” Erica repeated.  “Please sit down.  You have to understand my position,” as soon as she said it she realised how completely self-absorbed it sounded.

“Oh I understand,” Franky said with bitterness.  “You don’t trust me.”   She shook her head.  “Have I ever let you down, Erica?” 

The Governor closed her eyes briefly.  When she opened them Franky was looking at her and she felt the full force of Franky’s disappointment.  Christ, Franky had never let her down, she thought with dawning realisation.  Not in all the time she’d known her and she’d somehow forgotten what she already knew about the prisoner.  Franky had a strong sense of loyalty and she was smart.  It was Erica herself that was the problem.  She was so far out of her comfort zone with this whole situation, she couldn’t trust herself and it had completely skewed her perspective on everything.

“No,” she admitted quietly.  She couldn’t bring herself to look Franky in the eye. 

“You know Erica,” Franky said at last.  “If you can bring yourself to trust me, you’ll find all this a little easier to handle.”  

Erica nodded and looked at Franky whose green eyes were clouded with anxiety despite her calm demeanour. She gripped the side of her desk with both hands as though its solidness would help her to navigate the confusion she was feeling.  How did Franky somehow end up being the conveyor of sense and reason?  She remembered something Franky had said to her – “I’m here to help _you._ ”  Well maybe there was more truth to that than even Franky had expected.

“So, do you think we’ve talked enough now?” Franky asked, and a teasing note had entered her voice.  She glanced towards the broad window which represented the internal wall to the office and beyond it to the secretary’s desk.  It was unoccupied.

Erica was still processing the words when Franky closed the small gap between them.  She kissed her, not gently like her final words had been gentle, but intensely and demanding, pushing Erica backwards onto the desk.  The Governor put her hands behind her to stop herself from falling.  She could feel Franky’s hands pressing on her thighs, pushing forward until Erica felt she had to resist or risk sprawling across the desk with Franky on top of her.  She responded with her own thrust forward, kissing Franky deeply and the result was like two wrestlers fighting for the upper hand.  Then suddenly Franky broke away, ending the kiss as quickly as it had begun.

Erica’s heart was racing and her lips felt swollen from Franky’s assault.  She couldn’t think straight, was still wondering why Franky had stopped, when the door opened and her secretary reminded her she was due to meet with the Government lawyers at their offices in the city.

The meeting with the lawyers went much longer than Erica had anticipated.  She had gone to give drafting instructions for the contract with the network.  The lawyers, however, were even more concerned about the bad publicity the documentary might bring to the prison, the Department, and even the Minister.  They insisted on inserting a multitude of risk-averse clauses, designed to protect and provide mechanisms for large monetary reimbursements for breach of contract.  

“Do you actually expect anyone to sign this?” Erica asked irritably when she had finished reviewing their proposed inclusions.  

The Government lawyers smiled at her naivety.  “Oh they’ll sign,” one of them said.  “They won’t like it but they’ll sign, it goes with the territory when you do business with the Government.”

By the time she returned to the prison she was feeling frustrated and irritable.  The lawyers had told her it could take up to two weeks to prepare the contract.  She had managed to talk them down to four days but it had taken a lot of effort and patience.  The bureaucracy moved slowly even from within it seemed.  

She still hadn’t talked to Liz.  She thought about putting it off until tomorrow, after all Liz wasn’t going anywhere, but she remembered she would have a full schedule just to catch up on today’s tasks.  

Liz was lying on the bed when Erica stopped to view the monitor.  Not asleep, just staring at the ceiling, her arms crossed over her stomach.  Erica had the guard open the cell and went inside.  Liz continued to stare at the ceiling.

“Have you anything to say, Liz?” the Governor asked at last.

“Nope,” Liz turned her head to look at Erica.  

“Well, that’s fine because I have plenty to say,” Erica could feel the frustration well up inside her.  “I gave you a second chance, Liz, I thought you could be trusted.  And instead you are hitting the drink again!  The peer worker position has privileges which the other prisoners don’t have and along with that there is responsibility.  I thought you understood that, Liz.”  

She waited for some sort of acknowledgement, apology, regret but Liz lay there in stony silence.  “The women trust you too, Liz, how do you think they are feeling knowing their peer worker is a drunk who cannot be relied upon.  How can I rely on you?”

Still Liz said nothing.  “Well, clearly I can’t,” Erica said at last.  “You won’t be peer worker in future.  Doreen can do the role solo.  You’ve let yourself down, Liz, and everyone else as well.”

When Erica turned to go Liz spoke.  "You really have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Erica stopped and looked back. "So why don't you tell me then?"

Liz smiled cynically.  "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Information is power, and I've got information."

"What information?" Erica asked sceptically.

"Like who killed Meg Jackson," Liz offered.

 "What do you mean?" Liz had her full attention now.  "Jacs killed Meg."

"Did she?" Liz smiled at the Governor.  "Everything's not always as it seems, Miss Davidson."

"Get to your point, Liz," Erica said impatiently. Suddenly she was very worried where this conversation might end up.  Jacs killing Meg had been a neat resolution. She didn't like the idea that Meg's killer was still at large.

"My point?” Liz laughed to herself. “My point is this - Jacs didn't kill Mrs Jackson, Franky did."

"That's ridiculous!" Erica could feel her chest tightening.  She glanced briefly at the camera and wondered if the guard was watching.  There was no audio, but even so, was it possible to lip read?

"Is it?" The older woman played her winning card.  "Only I saw her do it."  She watched the Governor digest this.  "But don't take my word for it, Miss Davidson, why don't you ask Franky?"


	10. Falling

Franky was thinking about Erica.  It had been three days since their last encounter.  Franky had looked for the Governor whenever she was in the yard but there had been no sign of her.  She had wondered if once the chase was over it might mean the attraction would fade but it hadn’t.  If anything it had intensified Franky’s desire.  

 She thought about Erica coming to her cell again.  It would be late in the night but there would be enough light for Franky to watch Erica.  She would close the door and slowly take off her blouse all the while watching for Franky’s response.  Then she’d undo the zip of her skirt and step out of it until she was standing in those French knickers and matching bra with those sexy high heels she liked to wear.  Franky would let her eyes travel up those slim, sexy legs, around the curve of her hips, admiring the flat stomach, to her breasts.  Erica’s nipples would respond to the intensity of Franky’s gaze and the thin material would not be able to disguise it.  Then Erica would free her hair from its clasp and it would tumble onto her shoulders.  She would walk over to the bed and when Franky attempted to sit up, she would push her back down and Franky would feel those curls tickling her own breasts as Erica leant over to kiss her. 

 “I will put your head in the toilet, Doreen!”  Boomer yelled as she marched past Franky’s cell.

 Franky sighed.  She could hear Doreen talking rapidly.  She got up and went to the door of her cell.  Boomer had Doreen in a head lock.

 “Don’t you think you should leave her head attached when you put it down the toilet, Booms?” Franky asked drily.  Boomer did not let go.  “Puppies in jelly, Boomer,” Franky reminded her.

 Boomer looked up at Franky who nodded encouragingly.  Boomer let go without warning and Doreen took off towards her own cell.

 “Oh don’t mention it,” Franky called after her.  She looked at Boomer.  “Can’t a girl get even a minute’s peace and quiet?  What was that all about?”

 “She took some of my chocolate,” Boomer sat down and proceeded to eat the chocolate in question.  It was a Picnic bar.  “They’re my favourite,” she muttered.

 “Booms, you are out of here in a few more weeks, try not to kill anyone in the meantime,” Franky advised.

 Boomer gave a chocolate smile.  “Sorry, did I interrupt something, where’s Kim?”

 Franky shrugged.  “Around,” she actually didn’t know where Kim was.

 “Something happen between you two?” Boomer asked as she continued to eat her chocolate.

 “Why would you say that?” Franky asked quickly.

 Boomer shrugged, “Dunno, just thought it had.”

 Franky shook her head. “Nah,” she said.

 With Liz in the slot, Franky was feeling confident.  Liz would realise now how much power Franky could wield if necessary.  When Liz came out she and Doreen would toe the line.  Then when Bea finally returned she would have no support and Franky’s position as top dog would be guaranteed.

“Doyle,” Will entered the cell block communal area.  “Governor wants you.”

“She does, it’s true, Boomer,” Franky winked at her friend.  “Can’t get enough of my mind, says I’m the next Einstein.”  Boomer laughed.

“Come on Doyle, I haven’t got all day.” Will said impatiently.  

“Oh,” Franky gave him a sad look.  “Missing Bea, are you Mr Jackson?”  She laughed.  “Pity, only she could be gone a while.”

Erica was behind her desk when Franky entered.  She waited for Will to leave.  “Close the door, Franky.”  She instructed quietly.  Her face was impassive.  Franky had her first sense that all was not right.  She closed the door.  “Sit down.”

The prisoner sat, still lounging as she had a habit of doing, but warily, something was up.

The Governor looked at her for a moment.  “Is it true you killed Meg Jackson?” she asked, her voice devoid of all emotion.

Franky immediately realised her mistake.  She had underestimated Liz.  She had never planned to accuse Franky openly.  Her intention had always been to cause a rift between Franky and Erica.  Somehow she’d realised how important the relationship was to Franky and therefore her weakness. And now Franky had a dilemma.  She could lie and lose Erica’s trust forever or she could tell the truth and lose Erica.

“Who’s asking?” Franky stalled for time.  “You or the Governor?”  She would remember the look on Erica’s face at that moment for a long time, it would haunt her day and night, and it was punishment enough for a lifetime of sins.

“Jesus Christ, Franky!”

“It was an accident!” Franky said desperately. She sat forward, elbows on her knees, looking imploringly at the Governor.  “Erica, you have to believe me, I never meant to kill her!  It all happened so fast, one minute I was picking up a weapon from the ground, the next someone was grabbing me from behind, I thought it was Jacs, she’d already cornered me once.  It was when she did this,” Franky pointed to the scar above the tattoo on her chest.  “I lashed out, I didn’t even know who it was, you have to believe me!”

Franky could see Erica’s withdrawal.  Her retreat within herself until all that was left was cold and untouchable.   

“This doesn’t change anything, Erica,” she implored.

“It changes everything,” Erica said emphatically.  “It's over, finished Franky.”

Franky felt the tears well up in her eyes.  She put her head in her hands.  There was no way to save this.  

At last she looked up, forcing herself to face Erica.  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.  

Erica looked surprised.  She hadn’t expected that, Franky realised.  “Franky, Liz said she saw you.  She is an eye witness against you and she is talking.  There is only one thing to do.”

Franky saw a glimmer of hope.  “Erica, there are no forensics, if there had been I’d have been arrested by now.  So it is her word against mine and she is a drunk who offered this as a desperate trade to get out of solitary.”  It sounded plausible.  Franky could see Erica considering it.  She made her last pitch.  “Jacs is dead.  If Meg’s death lies permanently at her door what harm will it do?  If I confess to it, then you can kiss good-bye to the documentary. The network would lap it up but I can’t see your Department agreeing to continue, can you?”  

Erica was silent.  Franky waited.  “I need to think,” the Governor said at last.  “You can go now.”  It wasn’t the warmest of good-byes.

Franky hesitated but she got no encouragement from Erica.  So she left, not knowing how the cards would play out.  

When she returned to cell block H she walked straight into her cell ignoring the group at the table who were talking and laughing.  She paced the small confines of her cell but it wasn’t enough, she needed to run.  She headed to the door but before she reached it Kim appeared.

“Hey,” she said smiling, “where have you been?”

Franky stopped.  “Nowhere,” she crossed her arms defensively.  

Kim looked uncertain.  “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”  She smiled tentatively.  “I’ve missed you.”  She moved towards Franky, and hugged her but it was an awkward hug with Franky standing rigidly.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Franky stepped back.  “Look, I have to be somewhere, so I’ll see you later yeah?”

“Franky, what’s going on?” Kim asked anxiously, she knew Franky’s moods better than anyone and saw the warning signs.  “What’s happened?”

It’s all falling apart, Franky’s head screamed at her, that’s what’s happened.  Best case scenario, she’d wrecked her chance with Erica, and worst case she was going down for murder.  She couldn’t afford to fall apart though.  The other inmates could sense weakness and would pray on it like wild animals.  This is why she had to run because if she didn’t run she would fall down.

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?”  Kim was trying to be supportive.

Franky knew she couldn’t tell her anything though.  Secrets were a valuable commodity in prison.  If you had one, you kept it, and if you found one you treasured it until you could trade it for power or influence.  Liz knew that and Franky wondered what Liz had got in return for Franky’s secret.  

“Sure,” Franky found her bravado.  “I’m sorry babes, I’m just distracted with all this law degree shit, okay?”  She gave her a quick hug.  “I’ll see you later,” she promised and managed to escape with a sheepish grin.  

In the gym she sped up the treadmill until she was running so fast she couldn’t think.  Not about all the demons chasing her, or the control she didn’t have, or the elusive power she yearned for but could never quite obtain, or the look on Erica’s face when she realised Franky was a murderer.


	11. All the Power

When Franky left she had sat at her desk replaying the conversation in her mind over and over.  

Not a murderer then, Erica decided, just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.  How many of the women in Wentworth could claim that, she wondered.  If Franky was telling the truth, she added to herself, but truth was beginning blur around the edges for Erica.  No one told the complete truth, she thought, not even to themselves.  Franky’s story was probably as true as she was ever going to get.  She could have said she didn’t do it and it would have been Franky’s word against Liz.  Instead she confessed and Erica couldn’t see any reason for it other than Franky’s desire to continue as she had begun with Erica.

She rubbed her brow and sighed.  The past three days had been a rollercoaster of emotions.

Somehow she had managed to get out of that cell and had walked back to her office.  Once she was inside she had closed the door and paced anxiously, distractedly, until a feeling of nausea had overwhelmed her.   She had managed to get to the bathroom attached to her office before she threw up.  

Her mind had refused to process what she had heard.  Instead it had just repeated over and over, _Franky killed Meg_.  She had sunk onto the bathroom floor and stared at the tiles, tracking the grout lines with her eyes as though they would somehow lead her out of this nightmare.  

She’d rung in sick the next day just to give herself time to process it.  It hadn’t helped and had just left her with another day’s worth of work to catch up on.  So she did what she did best and went into avoidance mode, working slavishly in her office for the next two days clearing paperwork.  

Eventually she acknowledged what she had always known, that she would have to speak to Franky and give her the chance to deny it or explain it.  She dreaded the discussion though and where it would lead.  There did not seem to be many ways it could end.

Franky had surprised her though. The feeling of inevitability that had struck her when Franky admitted to what she had done was replaced by something else.  Franky had had much longer to come to terms with her actions and clearly she had considered it from every possible angle.  

Three points stood out.  Firstly, there were no forensics.  Franky was right.  Secondly, the documentary would die in the water if this got out, Franky was right about that too, and therefore so would her programs.  Thirdly, much as she had thought differently from the moment Liz had uttered those words, this wasn’t about her.  Somehow Erica had thought Franky had betrayed her by killing Meg but she was beginning to recognise that her self-absorption was again threatening to distract her from the truth of the matter.  

If she put aside her own feelings for a moment and considered it as a problem to be solved, she realised that despite what it might feel like she was still the one with all the power.

She stood up.  It was time to pay Liz another visit.  After four days in solitary, Erica expected Liz to be a little more talkative.

When she arrived at the cells she watched Liz on the monitor for some time trying to get a sense of her mental state.  The older woman was hard to read.  She appeared calm, sitting on the bed with her back against the wall, staring at the opposite wall.  Her lips moved and after a time Erica realised she was counting.  She had the guard open the door to the cell and she went inside.

Liz turned to look at her.  “I was expecting you days ago, Miss Davidson,” the prisoner said calmly.

Erica studied her.  “What were you counting?” The Governor asked suddenly.

Liz looked puzzled for a brief moment then she glanced quickly at the camera and her brow cleared.  “The cracks,” she replied.  “I’ve counted them 472 times and the number always comes out the same.”

“Well, maybe you won’t have to count them 473 times if we can come to an agreement, Liz,” the Governor offered.

“I always like to be agreeable if I can, Miss Davidson,” Liz smiled briefly.  

“All right,” Erica acknowledged, “then perhaps you could tell me what it is you want.”

Liz looked serious.  “I want to keep the peer worker role.”

Erica felt relieved.  That was easily done.  “All right, and in return you won’t repeat to anyone what you told me the other night.  There is no forensic evidence to support your claim and all you will achieve is to put yourself in harm’s way.  I’d have to put you in protection for the rest of your sentence.  You’d be counting the cracks for a long time then.”

“And I want Bea released from solitary and back in the cell block,” Liz added as though Erica had not spoken.

“That’s not possible,” Erica replied quickly.  “It isn’t my call to make.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way, Miss Davidson.”  Liz replied with finality.

Christ, thought Erica, as she walked back to her office, now she would somehow have to convince Channing to release Bea.  She considered whether it was possible to leave Liz in solitary indefinitely but realised she had perhaps a week before Vera and the like would start asking difficult questions about her extended stay.

There was a message to call Angela Stone waiting for her when she returned to her office.  She was in the process of dialling when Vera arrived.  She looked suspiciously like she’d been involved in a food fight.  Erica put down the phone and looked at her deputy.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Um, the women started throwing food,” Vera offered in explanation.  She looked down at her usually pristine uniform, which she had done her best to sponge down in the change room.

“At you?” Erica exclaimed.

“Ah no,” Vera cleared her throat.  “At each other, we just happened to get in the way of it when we tried to shut it down.”

“Tried to?” Erica repeated.  “Christ, Vera, I thought I could trust you to manage things on the ground.  Do you mean to say we have a full blown riot on our hands?  ”

“No,” Vera clarified.  “We have contained it.  The women have been put in lock-down.”

“Was it organised?” The Governor asked.  

The deputy shook her head.  “It appeared to be a spur of the moment thing.  Boomer threw something at Kim, who retaliated, and then it got out of control very quickly.”

Erica shook her head then looked at Vera.  “Well maybe you could change into a clean uniform then get Doreen in here.”  Vera gave one of her tight smiles designed to placate but usually just infuriated Erica.  

When she had left, Erica picked up the phone to call Angela Stone.  She reached her voicemail and left a message.  She called Channing but with the same result.

When Doreen arrived she looked nervous.  Erica did not ask her to sit down.  She indicated Vera should stay for the interview.

The Governor launched immediately into speech.  “What was all that about at lunch today?” 

“Some of the women are unhappy with the food, Miss Davidson,” Doreen offered as explanation.

“What, so decided it would be a good idea to throw it rather than eat it?” Erica asked annoyed.  “For goodness sake, Doreen, as peer worker you are supposed to bridge the gap between prison management and the women.  The food situation is temporary while the kitchen is repaired.  It may not be perfect but it is not something we can do much about in the short-term.  I would appreciate it if you would communicate this to the women and try and make them understand.”

Doreen looked apologetic.  “They told me to tell you they were prepared to organise a hunger strike if you didn’t do something about the quality of the food.”

Erica frowned.  “Who is they?” she asked.

Doreen looked uncomfortable.  “It was a few of them,” she said vaguely.

“Doreen, someone is driving it,” the Governor said clearly.  “Is it you?” 

Doreen shook her head.  “Oh no, Miss Davidson,” she said quickly. 

“Then who is it?”  Erica already had a sinking suspicion who it would be.

“Franky,” Doreen said reluctantly.

Of course it was, Erica thought grimly, this was Franky with nothing to lose.  “Well you can tell Franky Doyle from me, that I will not be held to ransom.”  She could see Vera’s surprised look out of the corner of her eye.  “You can go,” she dismissed the prisoner.

Vera hesitated.  “Do you want to speak to Franky, Governor?”

“What I want, Vera, is a week where this place doesn’t implode in some way.  Do you think you could help with that?”  The Governor said impatiently.

Vera gave her tight smile.  “I’ll leave you to it.”  She beat a hasty retreat.  In the staff room later she told the others that the Governor was a bit edgy today and it would be best to stay out of her way.

Channing appeared in Erica’s office in the late afternoon.  The Governor had thought about how she should play this conversation and hoped she was clever enough to pull it off.

“The network called today,” she began, “they’re very keen to get going with filming.”

Channing smiled.  “I haven’t seen a copy of the draft contract yet.”

“No,” acknowledged Erica.  “The lawyers are taking their time but I should have a copy in the next day or so.  The first payment is linked to execution of the contract.”

Channing nodded.  “Well, congratulations Erica, it seems you will save your programs after all.”

“We could be filming in a fortnight,” Erica continued, ignoring the false sentiment.  “I suppose it would be best to keep Bea Smith in solitary while the camera crew are here.”

“Why’s that?” Channing frowned.

“Well, there could be trouble between Bea and Franky.  The last thing we want is any of that captured on film,” Erica pointed out.

“I thought you had the network agree to a final veto on all footage,” Channing questioned.

“Well, I did,” acknowledged Erica with a frown.  “But even so –”

“Erica, you either have control of this thing or you don’t, which is it?”  Channing asked brutally.  

“I do,” she replied firmly.

“Well then, what is the problem with Bea being released back into the cell block?” Channing asked with a condescending tone.

Erica bit down on her bottom lip.  “Nothing I suppose.”

“Good, I’ll sign the papers to have her released.”  Channing stood up.  “You’re looking exhausted Erica, too many late nights with that fiancé of yours, is it?”  Channing gave her a lecherous smile.

Erica bit back her retort.  She had what she wanted and Channing could go fuck himself.


	12. The Foil

Franky’s problems were not getting any smaller.  Circumstances and her own attempts to manipulate them were conspiring against her.  She already had, by any standards, two significant ones.  Erica, who had been a positive force in Franky’s rehabilitation and someone with whom the prisoner felt a strong bond, appeared to have deserted her.  Meg Jackson’s death, which had conveniently gone away, was suddenly back and threatening to land directly at Franky’s feet.  Added to this, although as yet unknown to Franky, her attempts to take Liz out of the game had backfired tenfold.  Not only was Liz still well and truly in the game, she had successfully manipulated it to ensure Bea would also be a key player.  Added to that when Doreen spoke to the Governor about the food fight, she saw and took a golden opportunity to get revenge for Franky’s attack on Liz’s reputation.

The lock-down didn’t bother Franky.  She had her law books in her cell and she sat cross legged on her bed with one in her lap and read.  She heard Doreen return but did not stop her reading to find out what had gone down in the Governor’s office.  There were only two ways to win back Erica and that was by keeping her nose clean and studying hard so she intended to do both.  The lock-down ended but Franky remained where she was.

The first she heard of the hunger strike was a garbled message from Boomer to stash any chocolate securely as it was sure to be a prime target once the women got hungry.

“Not even your stuff will be safe, Franky, when there is a prison full of starving women,” Boomer finished with.  She had come into Franky’s cell carrying a fist full of chocolate bars against her generous stomach.

Franky looked up from her book.  “What are you talking about, Booms?”

“The hunger strike,” Boomer said as though it explained everything.

“What hunger strike?” Franky asked with a frown. 

“Doreen said we are striking over the food they’re bringing in.”  Kim said as she wandered in and sat next to Franky on the bed.  “I thought it was your idea.”

Franky thought quickly.  A hunger strike did not fit in with her new plan to keep her nose clean, particularly if people were beginning to say it was her idea.  “It’s a dumb idea,” she replied.  

Kim frowned.  “So we’re not striking then?” she asked.

Franky closed her book.  “Shit,” she said and got up.  “No, we’re not.  Spread the word, I say the strike is off.”  Franky headed to the door.  “I’m going to pay Doreen a visit.”

Doreen was in the yard.  She was surrounded by a group of women all watching the basketball match in progress.  As Franky walked towards them, one of the players tossed the ball in Franky’s direction.  “Come on Franky,” she called.

Franky caught the ball neatly but tossed it back without breaking her stride.  She walked into the group and grabbed Doreen by the t-shirt pushing her backwards towards the nearby wall.

“What the hell,” Doreen exclaimed as her back crashed against the wall.  

Franky pinned her there with her forearm across her throat.  Doreen struggled to escape but she did not have the physical strength to resist Franky.  “What stories have you been spreading about me, Doreen?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Nothing,” Doreen replied and felt Franky’s forearm push harder against her windpipe.

“Now that just isn’t true, is it?”  Franky jabbed a fist into Doreen’s stomach.  “What is this rumour about me wanting to start a hunger strike?”  Doreen’s senses were reeling.  “Who have you said that to, Doreen?”

“Just the women,” Doreen spluttered.  “I thought they’d be more likely to do it if they thought it came from you.  It’s a good idea,” Doreen spoke quickly fearing another punch, maybe this time to the face.  “And the women are up for it.  They are all sick of the food we’re getting.”

Franky’s face was inches from Doreen’s.  “It’s a shit idea, Doreen, and we are not doing it.  So you better tell everyone that I say it’s not happening or I’m going to find you and damage you permanently.  Got it?”  She let go and Doreen sank to the ground.

When dinner arrived in Bain Maries later that day all the women were seated at their tables.  Franky noted an increased number of screws manning the office and positioned around the room.  She wondered if it was just a response to the food fight at lunch or whether they had been tipped off and were expecting trouble.  Any one of the women could have said something to a screw in return for favours.  Great, thought Franky, if that were the case the officers would all be blaming Franky for the strike too.  It would only be a matter of time before Erica heard of it.  Time to show a little leadership, she decided.

She stood up and all the women watched.  She gave Boomer and Kim a quick nod and they also stood.  Franky led them to the Bain Maries and lifted the lid on the first dish.  It was pasta with a tomato sauce.  The pasta had dried out and the sauce was sadly lacking but at least it was recognisable.  She grabbed a plate and piled on some pasta.  The next dish contained overcooked broccoli, it looked unappetising, but Franky shoved a spoonful on her plate.  She continued down the line taking some of each dish regardless of whether she could work out its origin.  By the time she returned to her seat, there was a line of women all queuing for food.

She sat down feeling relieved.  She watched Doreen in the line and saw she was filling her plate too.  So far so good, she thought.  

When all the women had returned to their seats, Franky picked up a fork and proceeded to shove the tasteless food into her mouth.  She could see the other prisoners follow her lead and the tension in the room eased.  Conversations began between the women and the officers began moving about and talking to each other.  It was just another ordinary meal-time at Wentworth.

The next morning the Governor asked for a report at the daily briefing.  

“There was no trouble,” Vera reported with a brief smile.  “Both dinner and breakfast occurred without any disturbances.”

“Even Franky?” the Governor asked.

“Franky was the first to get her meal on both occasions,” Vera sounded surprised.  “I know Doreen suggested there would be a hunger strike but I’ve seen no sign of it.”

The Governor was thoughtful.  “Well, I suppose we should be thankful and leave it at that.  That’s all then.”  She stood up and the officers dispersed.  “Vera, could you bring Franky to my office.”

When Franky entered Erica’s office a short time later she looked wary.  Her last meeting with the Governor had not gone well for her.  This next one could seal her fate.

“Sit down, Franky,” Erica was sitting behind her desk.  Franky watched her closely, looking for indicators of her mood but Erica was being careful with her emotions.  

Was it only yesterday that she had sat on that very chair and confessed to killing Meg Jackson?  Franky sat, perched on the edge of the seat as though ready for flight, alert.  

“I want to tell you how things will go from here,” Erica said seriously.  It sounded very business-like to Franky and her heart sank.

“Liz has agreed it is in her best interests not to repeat those allegations against you.” Franky’s spirits lifted.  “She will be returning to the cell block later today.  I do not want any reprisals, Franky.”

Franky frowned.  “I can’t promise that.”

Erica watched her for a moment but avoided her eyes.  “Yes, you can.”

“I have to be able to defend myself,” Franky insisted.  “You can’t ask me not to.”

“We both know it won’t be Liz instigating any violence, Franky, it isn’t her style.” Erica pointed out.

Franky put her head in her hands and Erica saw how vulnerable she was at that moment. This was asking her to go against all her instincts of survival.  She lifted her head and Erica could see the concern in those green eyes.  “If that’s what you want.”  

Erica nodded, relieved.  “It is.”  She sat back in her chair.  “There’s one more thing.  I heard about your hunger strike idea, Franky, and I am telling you that I won’t have it.  We are doing our best with very limited funds, you of all people, know just how limited.   Inciting the women to strike is not going to achieve anything.”

Franky shook her head and laughed grimly.  “I knew it!  You know what, Erica, how about you check your facts before you start accusing me of inciting a riot!”  Franky was angry.  “I stopped your little hunger strike!  If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be explaining to the media in a few days just why there were women refusing to eat in your prison.”

Erica realised her mistake.  She remembered Vera’s words that morning and mentally kicked herself.  She hadn’t checked her facts, she had assumed the worst of Franky, and she’d got it wrong.  Franky stood up.  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.  “Please sit down, Franky,” she looked at Franky and hoped the remorse she felt was reflected in her eyes.  “I was wrong, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Well, you could make it up to me,” was all Franky said.

“How?” Erica asked with a puzzled expression.

“Well you still owe me a tutoring session so that’s no good.”  Franky pretended to think hard.  “So I guess it will have to be a kiss.”  She could see Erica tense.  

 “No, it’s over Franky,” Erica said quickly.

Franky walked around the desk until she stood in front of Erica.  She put her hands on the arms of Erica’s chair and spun it towards her.  She glanced quickly at the secretary’s desk and saw Erica’s secretary busily typing on her computer.  She leant in and hovered, her lips almost touching the Governor’s lips, so close that she could feel Erica’s uneven breath.  She kissed Erica’s bottom lip, pulling on it as she broke away.  She could see the secretary still typing and looked back to Erica’s parted mouth.  She kissed her fully and Erica moaned as she kissed her back.  Franky broke away and looked at her.

 “No,” she replied, “it isn’t.”    


	13. Bite Me

Franky was in the yard.  She watched Liz walk over to a group of women which included Doreen.  She greeted Liz enthusiastically but Franky noticed the other women were more reserved.  They don't trust her anymore, she realised.  So the game had not been a complete wash out then.  Franky put her arm around Kim's shoulders and they walked off.  As Franky passed Liz, their eyes met and Liz looked wary.  Since Liz had returned from the slot a few days ago Franky hadn’t missed an opportunity to intimidate her.  Erica had made her promise not to physically harm Liz but there were other ways to get even. She ran her thumbnail across her own throat as she passed and Liz licked her bottom lip nervously.  Franky grinned.

Kim led Franky to their favourite bench.  It was secluded and private and they had spent many of their outdoor recreational periods there.  Kim didn’t waste any time and she kissed Franky, pushing her back onto the bench.  “Mmm, you taste good,” she murmured as she moved her lips to Franky’s neck.  She nipped her with her teeth and Franky gasped.

Erica was clearing paperwork at her desk when her monitor flickered.  She glanced at the screen.  It was the surveillance camera from the yard.  She could see the women were out getting their daily exercise.  She automatically scanned the scene looking for Franky but she couldn’t see her.  She tapped some keys flicking through the various cameras.  She paused when Franky and Kim appeared on the screen.  They were sitting on a bench talking.  It looked serious and she felt like she was observing something private.  She closed her laptop as the phone rang.  It was Angela Stone.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Davidson." The producer said seriously.

"You've read the contract," Erica replied.  "Lawyers will be lawyers," she said, conveniently forgetting for a moment she was one.  "I hope it won't stop us working together, Angela."

"Well, my lawyers don't like it but I've convinced the network to sign." Erica felt her anxiety ease.  "It is too good an opportunity to pass up.  I'm having two copies couriered over to you as we speak.  Let's meet tomorrow to agree a schedule for filming.  How is Franky?"

Erica smiled.  "She is stubborn, determined, engaging, and feisty," the Governor replied recalling her last meeting with the prisoner.

Erica heard Angela Stone's attractive laugh.  "That sounds like Franky."

She's also vulnerable, Erica added to herself.  She was worried how Franky would handle intense questioning, which would require her to be far more revealing about her state of mind than she had been even with Erica.  The Governor suddenly questioned her decision to put Franky through it just to save her programs.

Angela suggested a time for their meeting.  “Sure, that will be fine.”  Erica had back to back staff performance reviews scheduled all day.  She decided to have her secretary reschedule them to the following day.  

Once she’d rung off, Erica stood up and walked to the window.  She looked out distractedly then suddenly decided to go out to the exercise yard.  She wanted to see Franky.

One of the male guards accompanied her as she walked through the gate which joined the walkway to the yard.  There was a basketball game in progress but Franky wasn’t amongst those playing.  As she scanned the yard, she saw Liz approaching.

“Hello Miss Davidson,” said the prisoner.  “Everything ok?”

“Fine,” she responded without looking her in the eye.  

“Any word on Bea, Miss Davidson?” the peer worker questioned.  “Only I expected her to be back in the cell block by now,” she said pointedly.

Erica frowned.  “I expect she will be soon, Liz.”  The Governor made to move off.

“I hope so, Miss Davidson, I’d hate for Bea to have to spend any longer in solitary than was necessary.”

Erica noted the veiled threat with annoyance.  “I’m sure she won’t be.  Have you seen Franky?”

“Franky?” Liz squinted into the sun.  “Not recently.”  The Governor turned to leave.  “She went off with Kim a while ago.”  Liz called after her.

It had been a fruitless trip and she could have done without Liz harassing her about their agreement.  She had to wait until Channing signed the release papers and she suspected he would delay until the film crew arrived on site.

Erica had to wait to speak to Franky until their tutoring session later in the day.  They met in the library.  Franky was waiting for her when she arrived.  The prisoner was engrossed in her book when the Governor walked in and she had a chance to watch her.  She looked relaxed, lounging in the chair, book pulled down into her lap and resting against the edge of the table.  Her face though was a study in concentration.  Her dark eyebrows were pulled together and the end of her pen rested absently against her temple. Her lips were parted slightly.

Suddenly she looked up and her green eyes caught Erica in her observation.  She smiled slowly and raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment.  She sat forward, eagerly, as Erica approached the table and sat down opposite to her.

“I always feel there is a barrier between us, Erica,” Franky murmured and the Governor had to lean forward to hear her words. Franky smiled at her and for a moment nothing else existed but Franky’s compelling green eyes.  

Someone coughed and Erica looked down at Franky’s law text.  The prisoner’s hand was marking the page she’d been reading.  Erica sat back.  “Shall we begin?” she asked, ignoring Franky’s comment.

Franky shrugged and also sat back.  For the next hour and half they worked through two chapters with Erica firing questions and Franky trotting out answers.  She was well drilled and Erica could not help but be impressed with her work.  As usual they were the last left in library.  

“Franky,” Erica paused until she could see she had the prisoner’s attention.  “This documentary, I shouldn’t have let you agree to it.”

Franky frowned.  “Why not?”

“I don’t think you realise just how intrusive it will be.  It won’t be like a reality TV show.  They will be asking you very personal questions.  It’s not fair of me to ask you to do it,” she finished with.

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” Franky reminded her.  

“Even so, you don’t have to go through with it.  It’s not too late, I can call it off.”  Erica said seriously.

“You’d do that?” Franky asked with surprise.

“Yes,” Erica replied without hesitation. She watched Franky process this.

“For me?” she clarified, watching her intently.  “Even though you’d lose your programs?”

“Yes,” Erica repeated.  Franky tilted her head and gave a slow smile, her green eyes mesmerising Erica.

At last she spoke.  “Erica, it’s okay, I know what I’m letting myself in for and I’ll be fine.”  Franky picked up a law book.  “I’ll just drop this back on the shelves.”

Erica waited for her to return.  After a few minutes she began to wonder where the prisoner had got to.  How long did it take to put a book back on a shelf?  She got up and walked into the stacks.  There was no sign of Franky.  She walked towards the back and turned a corner but found herself at a dead end.  There was shelving on two sides and a narrow wall at the end.  There was no Franky.  She was about to turn around when there was a voice in her ear.

“Looking for something?” Franky whispered.  She felt Franky’s hands on her hips then her lips on her neck.  “You’re so hot,” she murmured.  “All I could think about was fucking you.”  Erica gasped.  

She could feel Franky pressing into her, manoeuvring her towards the back wall.  She put her hand out to stop herself crashing into it. She turned in Franky’s embrace and kissed her, deep and demanding.  She could feel Franky’s fingers pulling her blouse free from her pants then her hands moving over her stomach to her bra.  Her nipples were erect and desperate for attention.  She pushed herself against Franky then moaned as she felt Franky’s hand flick the clasp of her bra.  Franky dropped her head until her tongue found Erica’s nipples.  She tasted so good and Franky realised Erica tasted of the outside.  Franky hadn’t even known there was such a thing until she came to prison.  Her hand unbuttoned Erica’s pants and slid past the waistband of her knickers to where Erica was wet and waiting.  She held Erica’s leg with her other arm to give herself access and slid her fingers inside Erica and began fucking her.  Erica rode her rhythm.  It was quick, frantic and so intense she bit onto Franky’s shoulder to stop herself from crying out as she came.

“Say it,” Franky demanded in a low voice as she felt Erica’s throbs slow.  Erica couldn’t speak though and her head rested on Franky’s shoulder as her breath returned to normal.  “Say it, Erica,” she repeated.  

She felt like liquid and when Franky helped her to the ground, she rested against the wall completely sated.  She was a mess, both on the inside and the outside, but she couldn’t deny her traitorous body.  Franky knew it and Erica knew it too.  “It’s not over,” she admitted.

There was a noise.  Someone had entered the library.  Erica looked at Franky, who put her finger to her lips.  The prisoner helped her up.  Franky pulled a book off the shelf and flicked it open, studying it as Erica re-clipped her bra, re-buttoned her pants and tucked in her blouse.  When she had finished Franky began a rambling monologue on Contract law as she led Erica out of the stacks.  When they returned to their table, there was an officer doing a patrol of the room.  Erica nodded to him and began collecting her books.  Franky shut up and did the same.  

Erica asked the officer to escort the prisoner back to her cell.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Franky,” she added.

“Oh count on it, Miss Davidson,” Franky replied with a wink.

When she returned to her office, Vera was waiting for her.  The Governor opened her office and put down the books she was carrying.  “You’re here late,” she said to her deputy.  She had a sudden idea.  “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, I need you to do the performance reviews I had scheduled for tomorrow.  It’s just your crew, Will, Fletch, Linda etc.”  Vera probably knew their performance better than Erica did.

Vera frowned.  “You want me to performance review Fletch?” She queried.

“Yes, what is going on between you two?” Erica asked impatiently.

“Nothing,” Vera replied hastily.  She frowned.

“It shouldn’t be a problem then,” Erica pointed out.

“No,” Vera’s expression belied her words.

“What did you want to see me about?” the Governor asked.  

“We have a problem,” Vera said as she handed a piece of paper to her Governor.

Erica glanced at the four words written by an uneducated hand.  “Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed.  She re-read the words.  _There is a bomb_.  “Where was this found?”

“In the shower block after the women on the evening shower roster had been through,” Vera informed her.

“Is it a prank?” 

Vera shrugged.  “Could be but standard operating procedures state –” Erica interrupted her.

“Yes, thank you Vera, I know what the SOPs state.”  She frowned.  “All right, lock the place down and call the police.  No one comes in and clear all non-essential personnel from the premises.”


	14. I.E.D.

The impact was minimal to begin with.  The prisoners were already locked up for the night and all the administrative staff and builders had left for the day.  The police arrived and commenced a thorough and methodical search of the building.  They brought bomb detection dogs on site to speed up the process.

Erica briefed the morning shift when they arrived.  She and Vera had spent the night at the prison assisting the police.   

“I can’t believe any of the women could get a bomb in here,” Linda said after listening to Erica’s rundown on the situation. 

“It doesn’t take much to make an I.E.D,” Fletch said as he sipped his coffee.  

Linda looked blank.  “A what?”

“Improvised explosive device,” Fletch explained.  “I saw a lot of them while I was in the army.  You only need a detonator, an explosive charge and some sort of container, all of which you could find in your kitchen at home.  They could have smuggled all those bits in individually and built it right under our noses.”

“They’d still need the expertise to build it,” Will pointed out.

“We don’t know who these women mixed with on the outside, any one of them could have contact with people with those skills.  And anyway, all you need is access to the internet to find instructions to build a bomb these days.” Fletch said.  “They could have smuggled in those too.”  

“How comforting,” Linda muttered to herself. 

“If there is a bomb, the police will find it.  Vera, I need you to continue to liaise with the police.  I imagine they will want to interview some of the women eventually, but until then no one leaves their cell, I don’t care what inventive reason they come up with.” Erica brought the meeting to a close.  

“They can be highly volatile,” she heard Fletch say as the meeting broke up.

That afternoon Erica was debriefed by the police.  They had searched the premises but without any detailed information it was difficult to know where to look or what to look for.  “There are no specifics in the note and in my experience that generally means it is a hoax,” the Sergeant finished with.  “We could interview the women who had access to the showers in the hope it turns up something, other than that, there isn’t much more we can do.”

Erica nodded.  “I’ll arrange to have the women brought to an interview room,” she answered as her phone rang.  It was Angela Stone.

“I’m outside the prison but they won’t let me in,” the producer said.

Erica had forgotten about their meeting.  “We’ve got a situation here, I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.  Can I call you?”

“Of course, anything serious?” the producer asked curiously.

“I really can’t comment on that,” Erica reverted to media speak.  “I’ll call you, Angela,” she rang off.

Erica decided to visit Franky in her cell.  She found the prisoner doing push-ups.    She stopped when Erica entered and rolled onto her back looking up at the Governor.  Her skin glistened with sweat.

"What's with the extended lock-down?" She asked.

Erica closed the door to the cell.  "I need information, Franky." 

“And here I was thinking you needed something entirely different from me.” She grinned at Erica, who did not smile in return.  Franky sighed.  Clearly the Governor was not in the mood for any flirting.

The prisoner stood up and went to the washbasin where she moistened a washer and wiped off the sweat from her body.  Erica watched as the washer slid over Franky's arms, her muscles flexing as she moved, and then over her chest and neck.  She could see a mark on the prisoner's neck, and another on her shoulder where Erica had bitten her the day before.  Their interlude in the library seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Franky's eyes met Erica's in the mirror.  "What information?"

"We've reason to believe there is a bomb somewhere in the prison," Franky let out a silent whistle.  "Have you heard anything about that?"

Franky shook her head. "Nah," she said immediately.

Erica studied her closely.  "Nothing happens in this place without you knowing about it, Franky," the Governor pointed out.

Franky turned around and faced Erica, she looked serious but shook her head.  "I don't know anything about a bomb, Erica," she replied.

Erica nodded slowly.  "All right," she acknowledged.  Franky could sense her disappointment.

"How long is the lock-down going to last?" She asked.

"Until the situation is resolved," Erica replied.  Franky could see she was distracted and she crossed the small gap between them until she was standing in front of the Governor.

"Why do you think there's a bomb?" She asked at last.

"A note was found in the shower block," Erica explained.  She knew she shouldn't be telling Franky this.

"Do you have the note?" Franky asked. "Can I see it?"

"The police have it," Erica replied.  Then she remembered. "I took a photo of it."  She tapped her phone and flicked through some photos until she found it. She handed it to Franky.

The prisoner studied it for a moment. "You need to let us out," she said suddenly.  

Erica frowned.  "I can't do that, Franky, there are procedures in place."

Franky handed back the phone.  "It's the only way I can find out what's going on."

Erica shook her head.  "No Franky, you'd be putting yourself at risk and I'd lose my job."

"I can help you, Erica," was all Franky said.  Her eyes held Erica's gaze.  

At last Erica shook her head.  "I can't," was all she said.

Eventually they did let the prisoners out of their cells but restricted their movements to the cell block.  The women spent a lot of time and energy speculating on the reason for the lock-down.  Franky did not offer any explanations.  In fact Franky was more reserved than her usual cocky self.  She watched and listened but she didn't say much.  When Kim took her hand and led her into her cell, she didn't resist but when she started to kiss Franky and pull off her top, she pushed her away.  Kim frowned, "What is it?" she asked. "What's the matter?"

"Why did you do it?" Franky asked.

Kim frowned and sat back.  "Do what?"

Franky studied her intently then said softly.  "There is a bomb."  She watched Kim closely then repeated.  "Why did you do it?"

"How did you know?" Kim whispered.

"Erica showed me the note," Franky said slowly.  "No one writes S's like you do."

Kim dropped her head.  Franky waited.  "I wanted to cause trouble for her, to keep you apart from her somehow."

“Erica?” Franky questioned.  Kim nodded.  "You're jealous," Franky said with dawning realisation.

"Shouldn't I be?" Kim asked bitterly.

Franky was silent.  "When did you realise?" she asked at last.

"Yesterday, on the bench, for sure," Kim replied, "but I’ve suspected something ever since I came out of the medical centre.

Franky thought back to their conversation the day before.  She had talked about her law degree and how Erica was helping with that, how important Erica’s help was to Franky.  She didn’t think she had said anything revealing but clearly she’d said enough for Kim to work out how things stood.

"Kim," Franky tried to explained, "you and me, I thought it was just fun, and sex, not serious, I didn't realise -"

Kim let out a short laugh. "Yeah," she replied, "I get that."  Franky was quiet.  "What are you going do?” she asked at last.

“I'll fix it," Franky said.  She felt responsible for the whole untidy situation.  "Just sit tight."  

She walked to the entry of the cell block and looked across to the guard's office.  “I need to see the Governor,” Franky called through the bars to Fletch, who was on duty.

The big man looked at her impassively.  “She hasn’t got time for you today, Doyle,” he said, dismissing her request.

“Just ask her, will you?” was all Franky said.  

Fletch waited until he felt Franky would not think the entire prison was at her beck and call before he went to see the Governor.  “Doyle is asking to see you,” he said briefly.  “I told her you were too busy.”

Erica frowned.  “Bring her to my office.” Fletch looked like he wanted to argue but Erica turned back to her desk, cutting off the conversation abruptly.  She heard the officer depart and she sat down at her desk thankfully.  Spare me from argumentative prison officers, she thought, today of all days.  She was functioning on pure adrenalin.  

When Franky came in a short time later Erica immediately noticed she seemed edgier than usual.  “What is it, Franky?” Erica asked.

“There is no bomb,” she blurted out.  “It’s a hoax.”  Erica watched her.  “There is no bomb,” she repeated.  She sat down and put her head in her hands.  

Erica looked concerned.  “It’s okay, Franky,” she stood up and walked over to where Franky sat.  She put a hand on the prisoner’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.  “Who wrote the note?”

Franky looked at the ceiling and shook her head.  “It’s my fault,” was all she said. 

“It’s okay,” the Governor repeated.  “There was just some inconvenience, no one was hurt, Franky.”

Franky seemed to pull herself together.  “Yeah,” she nodded.  “I’m sorry, Erica.” She stood up.  Erica watched her closely.  “Can I go now?”  Erica nodded and watched the prisoner leave.  She was disturbed by Franky’s demeanour.  She felt as though she was missing something.

Franky returned to the cell block and waited.  Eventually the women were released and given a short period of outdoor exercise to compensate for being locked up for most of the day.  Franky went to see Kim in her cell.

“What happened?” she asked when Franky entered.

“They think it’s a hoax,” she studied Kim for moment.  “So where is it?”

“In the laundry,” she admitted.  

“All right, come on,” she grabbed Kim by the arm and dragged her out of the cell.

“Where are we going?” Kim asked quickly.

 “We’re going to defuse it,” Franky said with determination.  “And then get rid of it.”

                                                                               


	15. R.I.P.

The police had left.   The interviews with the women who’d had access to the showers had produced a lot of cagey women but no clear leads.  Everyone agreed the police were right in their assessment and the note had been a hoax.  So Erica gave instructions to release all the women and give them access to some fresh air and exercise.  She had already sent Vera home and was in the process of packing up herself.  She needed a shower and bed.  Her interview with Franky, however, had worried the Governor.  She was positive Franky had not given her the whole story and the fragments she had provided disturbed her.  Tomorrow, she resolved to herself, she would speak to Franky and get to the bottom of it.  With that she walked out of her office and went home.

The laundry was deserted.  Franky looked at Kim.  “Where is it?” she asked.

Kim looked nervous.  “Franky, I’m not sure I can defuse it,” she admitted.

“Fuck Kim, you built it, didn’t you?  So surely you can take it apart,” Franky said impatiently.

“Maybe,” Kim didn’t sound confident.

“Well right now, you’ve got two options, defuse it or confess to planting a bomb.  It’s your choice,” Franky said harshly.  She waited, watching Kim decide.

Kim frowned then went over to one of the big cupboards which housed the 30 litre bleach bottles.  She opened one of the cupboard doors and shifted one of the containers carefully.  She pulled off the lid.  Franky realised Kim had hidden the bomb inside an empty container.  Any one of the women on laundry duty could have moved that container a little too roughly and sent the place sky high.  She swallowed nervously.

“Why did you write the note?” Franky asked suddenly.  Kim’s actions seemed inconsistent.

“I panicked,” Kim admitted.  “I was angry when I set the bomb but almost as soon as I’d done it I wished I hadn’t.  I didn’t know how to stop people coming into the laundry then I thought of the note.  That would get the screws involved without implicating me.”

Franky was silent as she watched Kim carefully lift the bomb out of the container.  She saw a device with some wires encased in a metal tin and taped with industrial strength tape.

“I’ll keep watch,” Franky informed her and retreated to the door of the laundry where she set up guard.  “How come they never found the bomb?” she asked as she stared down the empty corridor.

“Dunno,” Kim’s voice was quiet and Franky looked back to see she was moving one of the wires gingerly.  “Didn’t look in here too closely or maybe the bleach smell put the dogs off the scent.”

It was the last thing Franky heard Kim say.  There was a sudden explosion and Franky was thrown forward into the corridor.

When Erica got out of the shower her mobile phone was ringing.  She just missed picking up the call.  She noticed there were six missed calls from the prison.  She called back and reached Will.  “What’s happened?” she asked quickly.

“There’s been an explosion,” she heard him say.  “One fatality, Franky Doyle –” Erica’s heart stood still, “has been injured as well.”

“I’m coming in,” Erica said quickly.  Her heart was racing.  “Who died?” 

“It looks like it was Kim Chang, the body is unrecognisable but she is the only person unaccounted for,” Will answered, “sorry, I’ve got to go,” he rang off.

The prison was in chaos when she arrived.  Fire trucks, the bomb squad, police and ambulance were all on the scene.  TV crews had set up and journalists were broadcasting live.  Channing was also there, ensconced in her office, talking on his phone. 

“What the hell happened?” he asked when he rang off.

“We followed procedure, Derek,” she assured him.  “The bomb squad must have missed it.”

“So long as the shit falls on them and not us, because heads will roll over this, Erica,” he warned.  “We need to work on a statement for the media.”

“I need to be debriefed by my staff first,” Erica pushed back.  “I suggest we hold off speaking to the media until we have all the facts.”

“The facts seem pretty clear.  Two prisoners placed a bomb in the laundry.  The police failed to find it.  It detonated while the women were attempting to cover their tracks, injuring both of them, one fatally.” Channing stated emphatically. 

Erica took a deep breath.  “We don’t know that is the story at all.  Those prisoners could have accidently found the bomb and set it off without realising it,” she replied calmly.

Will appeared in the doorway of the office.  He nodded to Channing then gave his report to Erica.  “The police are conducting another sweep of the prison just in case there is another bomb.  The women have been put in lock-down again.  The fire in the laundry has been put out and the area is cordoned off waiting for the bomb forensics team.  We haven’t told the women about Kim or Franky.”

“How bad is Franky?” Erica asked, dreading the answer.

“The ambos say she was lucky.  She wasn’t as close to the explosion but even so she has sustained significant injuries.  They have taken her to the hospital.”

Erica nodded.  It wasn’t enough information to relieve her state of mind but it was probably all she would get for now.  She turned her attention to matters at hand.  “Bring everyone to the staff kitchen and we’ll debrief.  Has anyone called Vera?”

Will nodded.  “She’s on her way in,” he advised.

“All right, we’ll wait for her to arrive,” she looked at Channing.  “Did you want to attend the debrief?” she asked.

“No, I’ve a meeting with the Department.  Just keep me posted on any updates.”  Channing was already distancing himself from the fall-out, she realised as he left the room.

“I need a coffee,” she said.  Her secretary had left for the day and there was no one else available to do a coffee run.  She picked up the phone and called the police sergeant who had overseen the initial bomb search.  “How did this happen?” she asked when he answered.

Vera appeared ten minutes later, carrying two takeaway coffees, one of which she handed to Erica.  “I thought you could do with this,” she smiled briefly and Erica could have kissed her.

When the bomb exploded, Franky was thrown into the corridor and crashed into the opposite wall hitting her head.  She lost consciousness immediately.  The laundry door landed on her.  The fire fighters found her when one of them slipped in her blood as they entered the laundry. 

She had regained consciousness briefly in the Emergency and asked for a Panadol before passing out again.  When Erica at last had an opportunity to go to the hospital, Franky was being monitored in intensive care.  Her room had a police officer guarding the door.  Erica asked to speak to the trauma specialist who had treated the prisoner and waved her credentials at the officer, who nodded and let her through.

Franky was asleep.  Her head was bandaged and Erica could see where they had pulled shards of glass from her body.  Her arm was set in plaster.  She looked pale but Erica had expected her to look a lot worse.  Still she wished Franky would open her eyes and smile at her.

She wondered what had happened after Franky had left her office that last time.  How did Kim fit into the story?  What the hell had they been doing fiddling around with a bomb in the first place?  When Erica wasn’t feeling anxious about Franky, she was feeling angry and frustrated at the prisoner’s careless disregard for her own safety.

The specialist arrived and Erica went into the corridor with him.  He explained Franky’s injuries, the most serious of these being severe concussion.  “We were worried she had fractured her skull when she hit the wall but it seems she’s a tough nut,” he smiled.  “It is likely she won’t remember what happened just before the explosion, although it may come back to her at some point.  Expect some confusion, trouble concentrating, insomnia, headaches and nausea for up to a fortnight, although it may last longer. 

“Her wounds from the glass shards should heal in time, but she will need to have her dressings changed regularly to avoid infection.  We had to put stitches in a few places and one of her arteries was nicked which led to some significant blood loss.  Her arm is a clean break though, so she can get the plaster off in six weeks.  We’ll monitor her to ensure there are no complications but she was lucky,” he finished with.

She returned to Franky’s room and sat quietly, watching Franky sleep, too tired to think.  Erica wanted to be the one to tell her about Kim so she waited.  Eventually she fell asleep too.

It was dark when she woke up.  There was soft light coming from the hallway and the nurses’ station was well lit casting its light into Franky’s room.  She looked at her watch and realised it was after 11pm.  The days were beginning to blur together and she couldn’t remember when she last slept in her bed.  She glanced at Franky, who was still asleep, then stood up and poured a glass of water from the jug next to the patient’s bed.  She drank it thirstily.  When she looked down at Franky again she saw her watching.  “You’re awake,” Erica said, “how are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” Franky croaked, she grimaced as she tried to hold her hand out and realised her arm was plastered.  Her other arm had a drip in it.  She gave up and had to let Erica put a straw in her mouth so she could drink while Erica held the glass for her.  “Where am I?” she asked when she’d finished.

“You’re in the hospital,” Erica replied, looking down at her, watching those green eyes flicker.

“Why?” she asked with a frown.

“You don’t remember?” Erica asked gently.  Franky shook her head.  She stopped abruptly when a sharp pain shot through her head and neck.  “There was an explosion and you were injured,” she hesitated, not sure how much to tell Franky. “What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked.

Franky was thinking hard. Her eyebrows drew together and her forehead creased, then her brow cleared and she smiled.  “You,” she replied, “being sexy.”   

Erica looked quickly to the doorway to see if the police officer could overhear their conversation.  “Franky,” she pleaded. 

“What?” Franky grinned. “You asked what I remembered.”  Erica couldn’t help smiling back as she watched those green eyes darken.  “So what happened?” Franky asked.

Erica stopped smiling.  “A bomb exploded in the laundry and you were there when it happened.”

“Hell of a way to get out of prison,” Franky said flippantly.

Erica frowned.  “Franky, it looks like Kim was there too,” she studied the prisoner for any sign of her memory returning but Franky just looked curious.  Erica put her hand on Franky’s.  “We think Kim died in the explosion, Franky, I’m sorry.”

Franky frowned and said slowly.  “Kim’s dead?” She seemed to have trouble processing it.

Erica nodded.   “There’s more,” she said.  “It’s not clear what you and Kim were doing in the laundry, or who planted the bomb.  The police want to question you.”

Franky was slow to see the implications.  “They think I planted the bomb?” she asked finally.  Erica was silent.  “Fuck.”


	16. The Fallout

Franky liked having Erica visit her in hospital. They didn't talk about prison or Franky's law degree. They just had ordinary conversations. One visit they talked about their favourite foods after Franky rejected the hospital's jelly dessert. Another conversation was sparked about favourite books when Erica brought Franky a novel to read. They disagreed violently on the merits of _Wuthering Heights_ but found a mutual love in _Far from the Madding Crowd_. It always surprised Erica that Franky had such a love of reading, which seemed in contrast to the physical, aggressive prisoner she so often saw at Wentworth.

Franky would ask for Erica's opinion on random topics just to extend her visit. Erica would let Franky delay her by answering her questions in some length. Erica would bring Franky coffee from the hospital cafeteria, which Franky told her was terrible, but she drank anyway and looked disappointed when Erica teased her by suggesting she wouldn’t bring another one.

Once Franky woke to find Erica at her bedside and it gave her a warm feeling inside. She smiled languidly, watching Erica, soaking up the memory of it.

“You look like the cat that got the cream,” Erica said when she noticed Franky watching.

“Mm,” agreed Franky lazily. “You’re the cream,” she said. Erica blushed.

Another time Erica arrived when Franky was having her dressings changed. Erica could see massive black and blue bruises down her back. Her legs, back and one side were covered in a multitude of incisions from the glass shards, some deep and angry. She hoped for Franky’s sake she had been unconscious when they had pulled all that glass from her body. Her eyes met Franky’s and what she was thinking must have been reflected in her expression. “It’s okay Erica,” Franky said, “I’m alive.” Erica nodded.

Her time in the hospital had cocooned Franky from reality. Her memory of the events leading up to it were missing and although Erica had told her what had happened, it was as though she was telling Franky a story about someone else. Franky felt life didn't exist beyond her hospital bed.

Except that it did. Three days after the bomb blast, Franky was discharged from hospital. Handcuffed to a police officer, she was taken back to Wentworth where she was held in solitary pending an interview with the police.

While she was in hospital, the doctors had kept the police at bay stating the patient was unfit to be questioned and Erica had delayed them for as long as she could but ultimately she had no choice. Franky was brought to an interview room and was grilled by a Detective Sergeant Hayden. Erica watched it via the surveillance camera set up in the room. 

The questions came thick and fast. "Did you plant the bomb?"

"No," it was the only thing Franky was adamant on.

"Well, what were you doing in the laundry?"

"I can't remember."

"Did you go to the laundry with Kim Chang?"

"I don't know, it's possible," she admitted.

"Everyone else was in the exercise yard, why would you have gone to the laundry?"

"I don't know, maybe for some privacy,"

"Privacy?" The DS queried.

"Yeah, you know, officer, it's hard to get a bit of privacy in prison," she waited for him to catch up.

"You and Kim Chang were lovers?" he clarified.

"Cute, we had sex," replied Franky. "Any of the women could tell you that about us."

“Do you often use the laundry for that purpose?”

“I can’t tell you all my secret places,” Franky said seriously, “otherwise they wouldn’t be secret.”

“So no one can verify you used the laundry as a place to hook up,” the police officer stated.

“Just Kim,” Franky said in a flat voice.

"Ok so let's say you did go there for some privacy. Did you find the bomb?"

"I don't remember anything, do you get that?" Franky was starting to feel frustrated.

"Only you weren't together when the bomb exploded," the DS continued. "You were closer to the door and Chang was right next to the bomb from what the forensics tell us, which doesn't seem to gel with your story that you went there for sex."

Franky shrugged. "Maybe I was locking the door," she offered. "Maybe we didn't arrive together," she looked at him intently. "There are countless reasons why we may not have been together when the bomb exploded."

“Or Chang was planting the bomb and you were on look out,” the DS suggested as an alternative.

Franky didn’t respond. She had a sudden flashback. She was standing in the laundry looking back towards Kim.

“You planted the note as a hoax then set the bomb after the bomb squad had been through the building.”

Erica, watching remotely, was suddenly worried. The police were protecting themselves by planting the notion that there never had been a bomb when they did the initial sweep, which was why they never found it.

“Why would she do that?” Franky asked.

“Who is she? Do you mean Chang?” the DS asked quickly. He stared at the prisoner.

Franky looked confused. “Can I have a glass of water?” she asked.

“When you answer the question,” the police officer offered.

Franky looked pale. She put her head in her hands. “What was the question?” she asked slowly.

“You said ‘why would she do that’ and I asked you who she was,” he replied.

“I said we,” Franky looked up, she was frowning, “Why would we do that?” she said slowly and deliberately.

The officer smiled. “No, you didn’t, you said she,” he fiddled with his tie.

Franky stood up suddenly. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she said. She looked around the room, agitated, “Kim’s dead,” she said randomly then promptly collapsed.

She was taken to the medical centre where the doctor gave her a thorough examination. “It’s the concussion,” he told Erica when she arrived. “She may have more episodes like this, particularly if she is put under stress.”

Erica nodded. “I’ll tell the police they will have to wait to interview her until you give the all clear,” she suggested.

The doctor agreed, “and I think we should keep her in medical so we can monitor her.”

Erica went over to Franky’s bedside. “How are you feeling?” she asked the patient. She was concerned to see Franky looking pale and listless.

“Tired,” was all Franky said.

Erica studied her. “You remember, don’t you,” she said quietly.

Franky nodded and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She wiped her hand across her eyes impatiently.

“Franky,” Erica took her hand into hers and squeezed it, wanting nothing more than to hug her tightly. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “You’re in shock. It is a lot to take in all of a sudden.”

Franky looked at Erica’s hand in hers. “I know what happened,” was all she said. Erica waited. “It was all my fault.”

“Kim planted the bomb, didn’t she?” Erica asked. Franky was silent. “You have to tell the police, Franky.”

“Erica, you’re not listening,” Franky said impatiently. “It was my fault.”

“No Franky,” Erica said firmly. “Listen to me, wanting to blow people up with a bomb, that’s not sane behaviour. I don’t care what reason she gave you for doing it, it is not your fault. Kim was sick. You cannot accept responsibility for this.” Franky was silent, staring ahead. “Christ, Franky,” Erica said with frustration. “Do you think I want to see you locked up for another 20 years when you could be out in two?” Franky looked at her then. Her green eyes were dark and questioning. “Please Franky,” Erica pleaded.

“Governor?” as Vera entered the room Erica removed her hand from Franky’s and sighed.

“What is it?” she asked impatiently.

“Derek Channing is here, and wants to speak to you,” she smiled tightly and cleared her throat. “He’s waiting for you in your office.”

“Fine,” Erica looked at Franky. “I’ve got to go. Think about what I’ve said, won’t you?” Franky gave a slight nod and with that Erica had to be content.

She stopped by the doctor’s office on the way out and told him Franky had remembered what had happened before the explosion, was likely in shock and may benefit from some counselling.

“There’s going to be an enquiry,” Channing announced when she entered her office. “Looks like we’re all for the chop,” he said pessimistically.

“Great,” Erica replied without enthusiasm. “Just us or will it be external?”

“Internal for now, but I shouldn’t be surprised if the Government decides to announce an independent review. It is an election year after all and they’ll want to be seen to be doing something.”

Erica sat down. “Well, I just heard the police suggesting that the reason they didn’t find a bomb was because the note was a hoax and the bomb was planted after they did their search.”

“Covering their arses,” Channing concluded and Erica nodded. “Any progress on finding the culprit?” Erica shook her head. “Well, I bloody hope it wasn’t Doyle, all our eggs are in that basket at the moment.”

Due to a strange set of circumstances it appeared that she and Channing were actually on the same side momentarily. Erica smiled at the absurdity of it.


	17. Ahead of the Game

Franky was sore and tired. The bruises on her back combined with some deep gashes on her side limited her sleeping to her front or alternate side. She couldn’t sleep on her front so that left one side, which was also the side of her broken arm. She found that a position on her uninjured side with her plastered arm resting beside her was her only hope of sleep. Unfortunately she always ended up trying to roll over onto her back in her sleep which woke her immediately. The Panadol which the nurses offered up every four hours was not sufficient to dull the pain.

Added to the physical pain was the mental anguish associated with the guilt she felt for her part in the bombing and Kim’s death, and horrific images which replayed in her mind since remembering what had occurred.

She had thought about what Erica had said to her but she always came back to the same thing. Kim was family and she had let her down. By not understanding how important she was to Kim and for pursuing her own desires with Erica at Kim’s expense. In putting Kim in that laundry and forcing her to attempt to defuse the bomb despite her obvious reluctance. For thinking she knew best.

She hadn’t detonated the bomb but felt she had done everything else she could have to put Kim in that laundry with a bomb in her hand.

The doctor had sent her to a counsellor. She spent an hour staring at a picture of a Paris streetscape while the counsellor asked open ended questions designed to get her talking about how she was feeling. Franky welcomed the break from her hospital bed but couldn’t see the point of talking to a complete stranger about the trauma she had experienced.

Erica was thinking about Franky. There was a mountain of work she should have been doing instead. There was Mark, possibly already at home, probably wondering when she would be home that night. Then there was Franky, who was under a cloud so dark and threatening, it seemed as though she couldn’t possibly escape the storm.

Erica was not confident her plea to Franky would be heard. Franky walked to the beat of her own drum. Sometimes she showed shrewdness and strength but Erica was worried her sense of loyalty would skew her perspective. Something had occurred to trigger Franky's belief that she was responsible for what happened. Erica did not know what that might have been. Whatever it was though would probably lead Erica all the way to Kim's motive.

She frowned. If Franky refused to tell the police what she knew, then there was enough circumstantial evidence, along with a police force desperate for a resolution, to make Franky appearing as the culprit very appealing indeed.

Kim Chang’s file was open on her desk. Erica had read it a dozen times but there was nothing in it to suggest a disturbed mind or a capacity to go to the lengths Kim had.

Erica stood up. She left her office and walked down to the medical unit. There was a night nurse on duty and she waved to her as she passed the window of the office. She was pleased to see Franky was the only patient in the unit that night. The dark head was turned away from her. The bandage around Franky’s head had been removed and Erica could see a nasty gash near her hairline.

“Hello,” she said softly as she reached the bed. Franky turned her head but her usual quick smile was missing. “How are you feeling?”

Franky shrugged. “Do you think you can do anything about the painkillers?” she asked hopefully.

Erica smiled but recognised the bravado. “I hear you’re not talking to the counsellor,” Erica said as she propped on the edge of the bed, Franky moved gingerly to give her more room. “I think it would help if you did,” she added.

“Why? Talking about it just prolongs the trauma. I’d rather not talk about it actually.” Franky responded flatly.

“Okay,” accepted Erica. She studied Franky. “What would help?”

“You can’t fix it, Erica,” was all Franky said.

Franky was right and it made her feel helpless. “Did you think about what I said?”

Franky studied her bed cover, avoiding Erica’s eyes. "I can't," was all Franky said and Erica sighed. She had expected nothing else from the strong-willed prisoner.

Erica took Franky's hand in hers. Franky looked as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. She looked, not defeated, but resigned to her decision and its consequences. "Okay," she replied. She squeezed Franky’s hand.

Franky looked at her then. "You're not going to try and change my mind?" She asked with surprise. Her eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"No point, is there?" replied Erica. Franky shook her head slowly. It still hurt to move too suddenly. Erica looked into those green eyes. "If there is one thing I know about you Franky Doyle, it’s that you are stubborn and once you set your mind to something you won’t be swayed from it.”

“Is that what you love about me?” Franky asked expectantly. Erica suspected Franky’s flirting was in part a coping mechanism.

“It’s one of your more frustrating characteristics,” offered Erica instead but she smiled softening the words.

“It got me you, didn’t it?” Franky said quietly. Erica had to lean in to hear her and Franky closed the gap quickly and unexpectedly. Her lips were soft on Erica’s and gone in a heartbeat. Erica would have thought she imagined it but for the satisfied smile on Franky’s face.

“It’s lip gloss,” Erica said suddenly. Franky frowned. “You always taste faintly of strawberries,” she explained. Franky’s brow cleared. “Where do you get it?”

“I can’t tell you that Governor, it’s contraband,” Franky said seriously. Erica looked thoughtful. The prisoner’s words had given her an idea.

The next morning after the daily debrief she spoke to her deputy. “Instigate random searches, and I mean random, not just the cells but other places too, it wouldn’t be obvious otherwise we would have found her by now,” Erica instructed and Vera nodded.

Each morning the Governor asked for a status report, and each morning her deputy shook her head. Then, on the third morning, Vera smiled in response. She handed Erica a sheet of paper with one name on it.

"Roxanne Macleod? What did you find?"

“Nothing in her cell, it was clean as a whistle, but one of the officers did a random search of her cleaning trolley and it was a veritable supermarket of contraband.” Vera referred to her own list. "She had prescription drugs, a mobile phone, alcohol, even a camera."

Erica spoke quickly. "She must be running a smuggling operation."

"Rox has always been clean but it looks likely," agreed Vera. “Unlucky for her, she was due for parole in a couple of months.”

Erica was thoughtful. "All right, good work, keep up the raids for now, there’s no harm in keeping the women on their toes."

The Governor had accepted Franky's decision but that didn't mean she wouldn't pursue her own enquiry into what happened. She had a distinct advantage over the police because she knew who planted the bomb.

She looked at her watch. She had a meeting with Angela Stone then another with the Department appointee heading up the review. She looked at her deputy.

“Vera, something’s come up, can you begin the meeting with Angela Stone without me and I’ll join you as soon as I can,” her deputy nodded uncertainly. “Just run her through the protocols relating to bringing equipment into the prison. That should keep you occupied until I get there.”

The Governor walked down to solitary to where Roxanne Macleod was being held. She watched the tall blonde woman on the monitor for a minute. Erica was hoping this conversation would put her ahead of the game.

Roxanne Macleod was surprised to see the Governor enter her cell. In all her time at Wentworth she had managed to avoid being singled out. She kept a low profile and that helped her smuggling operation to stay under the radar. She was a business woman first and foremost. She did regular trade on the inside because the women found her fair and reliable.

"You've been smuggling contraband," the Governor stated as an opening.

Rox shrugged. "You got me," was all she said.

"You're up for parole soon," added Erica. "This won't look good on your record."

"Are you going to tell me anything I don't already know?" asked the prisoner in a bored tone.

"I could make this go away," Erica offered. "If you help me."

"Really," Rox was sceptical. "Help you how? I'm no grass."

"Fine," Erica was conciliatory. "I just want some information. How about I ask you and you can decide whether it is worth giving me an answer."

Erica held her breath while Roxanne considered this. In the end she shrugged. "Shoot," was all she said.

"Did you ever smuggle anything for Kim Chang?"

Rox's response was quick. "I never had anything to do with that bomb," she said emphatically.

"Okay," Erica acknowledged, hoping the prisoner's defensiveness was momentary because her response was intriguing. "That wasn't my question though."

"Well so what if I did? Most of the women in here have used me from time to time," she answered.

Erica saw a glimmer of hope. "Recently?"

"A few times recently," Rox acknowledged.

"What stuff did she ask you to bring in?" Erica held her breath. The answer to this question could mean everything.

"Weird shit," admitted Rox. The blonde woman shook her head. "Didn't think much of it at the time but now..." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay," Erica thought carefully. "Are you prepared to make a statement to the police?" Rox looked concerned. "If you are, I'll not only take the smuggling off your record, I'll write you a reference for the parole board. You'll be free," The Governor sold the dream.

Rox did the calculation in her head. “That’s generous, Governor,” she said thoughtfully. Erica waited. “You must want this badly.”

The Governor opened the door. “Forget it then,” she started to walk out. “The only thing I want is for the truth to come out." 

The prisoner considered hastily. The deal was too good and may not be offered again. “Okay,” she said quickly as the door started to close behind the Governor. “I’ll do it.”


	18. Changes

The police accepted the statement Rox made about Kim's smuggling and turned their attention away from Franky. Kim now had opportunity and intent even if there was no obvious motive presenting itself.

Erica relaxed a little. Then the prison doctor allowed Franky to be interviewed again. The prisoner did not offer up much in the way of explanations but at least didn't incriminate herself further.

Two weeks after the bomb blast Franky returned to the cell block. Physically she was on the mend. Her bruises were fading to an ugly yellow, the incisions were healing nicely and without infection, and the broken arm was a hindrance more than anything. Mentally, her recovery was slower.

There was no one about when she arrived in cell block H. Her cell had been turned over and her belongings were strewn across the floor, the mattress was upended and some of her stuff was missing. She slowly cleaned up.

She heard the women return and went out to face them. The general babble of conversation stopped. She noticed immediately Boomer was missing and there was a new girl.

She nodded to Liz. "Where's Boomer?" She asked.

"In the slot," Liz told her. "Lost her temper and banged a few heads."

"I'll make you a tea, Franky," Doreen offered. "We're all real sorry about Kim." There were murmurs of assent then silence.

"This is Kat, Kat this is Franky," Liz said when she noticed Franky studying the new inmate. Franky nodded. Kat looked young and green. "How are you doing?" Liz asked.

Franky shrugged. "On the mend, what's been happening?"

Doreen handed Franky a cup of tea. "The meals have improved a bit," she offered with a smile. "The kitchen repairs still aren't finished and now the laundry's out of commission too," she stopped awkwardly. Franky stared at her. "Well, they have set up some machines in a couple of cells in G block just temporary like. Stinking hot though," she ended with.

"Bea still not back then?" Was all Franky said in response.

"Nah," replied Doreen.

Franky retreated to her cell soon afterwards. She sensed the women didn't know what to say to her and for her part, she didn't feel like talking. She opened a law book and began reading. Fifteen minutes later she was interrupted.

"Everyone's talking about you."

Franky looked up. The Kat girl was standing in the doorway of her cell. Franky was inclined to tell her to fuck off but instead offered some advice.

"Don't believe anything you hear in this place," she said and returned to her book.

"Oh I won't," Kat was silent for a moment. "They all think you planted that bomb, with that other girl, the one who died," she said quickly.

"Like I said," Franky replied without looking up. "Now fuck off, will you."

"Liz says you're trouble," Kat continued.

"Yeah? Well she's right about that," agreed Franky.

"But Boomer shoved her face in the kitchen sink and almost broke her arm for saying it," Franky couldn't help smiling at the image. "Boomer went to solitary after that because she tried to take out a whole table of women at lunch-time after they said you were a psycho."

Franky put down her book. "Okay, what else have you got, kid?"

Kat took a couple of steps forward into the cell. "Some women say you wanted to blast your way out of prison."

"From the laundry?" Franky raised her eyebrows at the absurdity of it.

Kat nodded. "Some women think you wanted to kill everyone who worked in the laundry, that you had a vendetta against them."

"More likely I wanted to blow up that bloody steam press," Franky offered. "Maybe you could spread that rumour for me." Kat looked unsure. "Anything else?"

There were footsteps and Will appeared. "Governor wants to see you, Doyle."

Erica was talking to her secretary when Franky appeared. She waved the prisoner through to her office then followed a minute later. She closed the door.

"Sorry Franky, there is a lot happening at the moment," Erica sat down at her desk. She studied the prisoner. "I wanted to tell you," she began. "The police have decided not to pursue a case against you for the bomb blast."

Franky looked surprised. "Why not? I thought I was dead centre of the frame."

"Other factors have come into play," Erica explained. Franky's eyes held a questioning look. "Roxanne Macleod has made a statement to the police which lists the items she smuggled in for Kim. Franky, they are all items that together could be fashioned into an explosive device." She watched Franky absorb this. "Added to that, it seems Kim was connected in the past to some very dangerous people."

"I guess you never really know people," Franky said. There was resignation in Franky's voice. Her green eyes met Erica's and the Governor could see the sadness in them.

"I'm sorry, Franky," Erica said sincerely.

Franky changed the subject. "When do we start my tutoring sessions again?"

"Tomorrow," Erica said definitively. "And it will be filmed."

Franky raised her eyebrows. "That doesn't sound very private," she grinned slowly.

"That is the other thing I needed to tell you. The network will commence filming the documentary on you tomorrow. To begin with they will follow you around for a few days. Then they'll do some interviews with you then others." Franky nodded. "I tried to delay it but the network is pretty insistent." She studied Franky. The young woman looked almost back to normal but Erica was worried how she would cope with the intense questioning so soon after the bomb blast. "I need to know you are ready to handle this, Franky."

"I'm ready, don't worry Erica, I won't let you down." Franky said reassuringly.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Erica frowned. "Franky, I'm worried about you."

Franky's face softened into a smile. "Are you?" She said with a sudden awareness. The prisoner studied Erica intently and the Governor couldn't seem to look away.

She wished they weren't in her office with her secretary parked outside. She wanted Franky to take control like she usually did in their relationship. She wanted Franky to kiss her senseless and caress her murmuring in her ear all those things which made Erica respond with such intensity.

The green eyes which held her captive blinked and Franky looked away. She stood up and walked to the door. Erica watched fascinated. She never knew what Franky might do next. It's what made her so damn attractive, and dangerous. Franky stopped at the door and turned. "Come and visit me tonight. I think it will help." She had left the office before Erica could respond.

It was lunch-time. Franky was sitting at a table on her own. There had been no space at the table she usually sat at when she had collected her lunch and surveyed the room. So she had sat down alone and five minutes later she was still alone. She got the message loud and clear. The ground she’d captured since Jacs death was lost completely and without Boomer or Kim, she was isolated.

The chair across from her moved and someone sat down. Franky looked up from her plate. It was Kat, who looked at her expectantly.

“Are you looking for trouble?” Franky asked with a frown.

“No, I was looking for you,” Kat said seriously. She began eating.

“Listen kid,” Franky put down her fork. “I’m trouble, so go and sit with your friends over there,” she waved in the direction of Liz and Doreen.

“My name’s Kat, not Kid,” was all she said and continued eating.

Was this girl for real? “Fine,” said Franky with a shrug. “It’s your funeral.” She resumed eating.

“Boomer says you’re smart,” Kat said after a minute. “That you’re studying for a law degree.” Franky ignored the conversation starter and continued eating. The food had improved. She could actually recognise the dish as lasagne and there was real minced meat in it. “I was studying at Uni before I came to stay here.”

“This isn’t a resort, kid, it’s prison, and you don’t stay here, you’re held here,” Franky felt obliged to point out. She picked up her empty plate and stood up. 

Kat looked up from her meal. “Where are you going now?”

“None of your business,” was all Franky said.

The gym was quiet. The women were still at lunch or they had returned to work duties. Franky was excused from working due to her broken arm. Any upper body weight bearing exercise was out but Franky was an optimist and she thought she could still run even with a broken arm. She was sure the doctor would advise against it but then Franky wasn’t very good at listening to advice.

She set the trendmill at a sedate 6km per hour and cautiously commenced a slow jog. She was stiff and the weight of her broken arm felt odd but nothing hurt so she kept going. She let her mind drift, settling on a thought like a butterfly, but not staying there for long. She seemed to have spent the last week doing nothing but thinking, and now she just wanted to run.

It was later that she collected her towel and toiletries and headed for the shower block. It would be quiet now and she wouldn’t have to suffer the other women’s stares at her injuries. As she approached she heard a repeated dull thud. She couldn’t place the sound immediately then realised with a sinking feeling what was happening.   Someone was getting the crap beaten out of them.

Franky hesitated. Best idea would be to turn around and walk away. Don’t get involved, her head said, she was still injured and it wasn’t her fight anyway. She turned around and began walking away.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, then turned back and entered the shower room.


	19. Fighting Demons

There were three of them and the victim. Franky had the element of surprise on her side. She pulled one away and threw her against the tiled wall. She heard a satisfying crunch. Down for the count, she assessed correctly. She turned back just in time to see a swinging arm, she deflected it with her plastered arm, and gathered from the howl that it was a useful defence. She watched the woman flee. The last perpetrator kicked Franky in the shin, which brought tears to her eyes, and followed with a punch to Franky’s side. It landed on one of her deep cuts and brought her to her knees. A kick to her stomach doubled her over but before the next blow landed there was a dull thud and the final attacker fell to the ground.

Franky looked up and saw a bloody Kat holding a prosthetic leg. She looked down to where Kat’s foot should have appeared out of her prison pants but there was nothing there. As she watched Kat sat down, pulled up her pants to her thigh and re-attached her fake limb to the stump below her knee. She then rolled her pant leg back down and looked at Franky.

“You’re bleeding,” Kat said, pointing to Franky’s side.

“So are you,” Franky pointed out. “Did you just knock that woman out with your own fake leg?” she asked in amazement.

“Yes,” Kat replied seriously.

Franky laughed. “Shit, well that’s a first,” she acknowledged. “We’d better get out of here before their friends turn up. Can you walk?”

The small girl nodded. “Can you?”

Franky got up slowly. “Yep,” she responded and they left the shower room and got as far as the guards’ office outside the cell block before they were stopped.

In the medical unit, Franky tolerated the nurse re-stitching the gash on her side while watching Kat get treated in the next bed. The kid seemed to be worse than Franky. Her face was swollen with cuts and bruises and her stomach and back were littered with marks from the attackers’ shoes. “No ribs broken,” she heard the doctor say, “so I’d say you were pretty lucky.”

“Getting beaten up in the shower block doesn’t sound lucky to me,” she replied with a frown.

Franky chuckled and the nurse told her off. “That kid is crazy,” she said to herself.  

Erica appeared not long afterwards. “What happened?” she asked Franky, assessing the damage as she spoke. Franky was stripped down to her sports bra and Erica could see an angry mark near her ribs in addition to the re-opened wound on her side.

Franky shrugged and nodded in Kat’s direction. “Better ask her, you might actually get a straight answer,” she shook her head at the new kid’s naivety.

“All right, you’re done,” the nurse said at last. “Try and stay out of here for a bit longer next time, Franky,” she chastised with a smile. “You only left this morning.”

Franky grinned distractedly. She was listening to Kat’s answer to Erica’s question. “I don’t know their names but they don’t like Franky because they told me I was getting the shit beaten out of me for sitting with Franky at lunch-time.”

The nurse didn’t let her delay any longer so she didn’t get to hear Erica’s response to that little insight. She knew who the perpetrators were and since they had obviously cleared out of the showers by the time the screws investigated, they must only be walking wounded. Franky wondered if reprisals would be likely. She sighed. Those women were thugs so it was possible they had not acted on their own initiative but instructions.

Dinner was a repeat of lunch. Franky sat alone at one of the tables until Kat sat down across from her. Franky looked up in disbelief.

“Do you have a death wish, kid?” she asked.

“No,” Kat replied. She began eating.

“Well, what are you doing then?” Franky asked.

“Eating dinner,” Kat answered between mouthfuls. “With you,” she added.

“Exactly,” Franky said. “After you’ve had the crap beaten out of you for eating lunch with me,” she pointed out.

“Why can’t I eat with whoever I like?” the small girl asked seriously.

“Because,” Franky replied with frustration. “This isn’t primary school, kid, you’re playing with the grown-ups. Didn’t those bruises teach you anything?”

“I’m nineteen,” replied Kat, “that makes me an adult in this country.”

Franky gave up. “Fine, whatever, you’re exhausting to talk to,” she resumed eating. “Just don’t expect me to be around to save you next time,” she muttered.

“Actually, I think I saved you,” Kat pointed out after a pause. Franky almost choked on her carrots.

“What?” she exclaimed. “Listen kid, you were the one on the floor with three thugs kicking the shit out of you when I arrived.”

“Yes,” agreed Kat, “but then you ended up on the floor having the shit kicked out of you and I knocked out your attacker with my leg.” She smiled pleasantly.

Although Franky didn’t like how that sounded she couldn’t deny the truth of it. “Well, keep that to yourself, will you,” she stabbed a bean with her fork.

“All right,” agreed Kat amiably.

Franky shook her head. She was starting to get a headache.

It was dark. Franky was disorientated. She must have fallen asleep waiting for Erica. She was wondering what time it was when she heard her door open and close. She rolled over, “Erica?” she questioned.

“Who’s Erica?” came a whisper near the door.

Shit! Franky sat up. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she demanded in a hushed tone.

Kat came towards the bed. “I can’t sleep,” she whispered. “Everything aches,” she added.

“What?” Franky asked in astonishment. Fuck, this kid was going to be a pest.

“I thought you might lend me one of your books,” Kat explained softly. “So I can do some reading.” She held out her hand. “Here, I borrowed this one while you were away but I’ve finished it.”

Franky looked at the book. It was one of her law books which she’d discovered missing that morning when she cleaned up. “Have you taken any more of my stuff?” she demanded.

“Oh no,” Kat responded vehemently.

Franky thought quickly. Erica could be on her way right now and having Kat hanging around wasn’t going make matters easy. In fact, it would be extremely awkward.

"Listen kid,” she snatched her book back. “I’m not your fucking mother, all right, so piss off and stop bothering me. I’m not interested in being your family or your friend or anything else you think you want from me. Got it?" 

Kat was silent. Franky wondered if she was going to cry. “Yeah, I get that,” she said at last. She turned around and slipped out of the cell.

Franky put her head in her hands. Those words were Kim’s words too. _Yeah I get that_. Those words took Franky back to the afternoon of the bombing, sitting on her bed in her cell with Kim. Back to when she still had choices and could have chosen to act differently and changed the outcome.

Erica found her like that, sitting on her bed in the dark with her head in her hands. She came into the cell and carefully closed the door behind her. “Franky,” she whispered and when the prisoner didn’t respond she crossed the small space and sat down on the bed. “What’s happened?”

Franky looked up and Erica could see anguish written all over the prisoner’s face. “Christ, what’s wrong?” She saw tears well up in her eyes and slowly spill. Those eyes were so dark they almost looked black. “Please tell me,” she pleaded.

And Franky did. She confessed everything that had happened on that day of the bomb and her regret over her choices. It was like the flood-gates opening. Once she started talking she couldn’t stop and Erica listened, her arm wrapped around Franky’s shoulders in support.

“Franky, the police never found the bomb in the initial sweep.” Erica explained once Franky had exhausted herself. “They had already decided it was a hoax before you came to my office that day. Without Kim defusing it or confessing to its existence, many more lives would have been lost.” Erica paused then added, “Kim’s actions are not your responsibility any more than they are mine.”

“It’s not your fault, Erica,” Franky was quick to say. Erica’s hand was firm against her upper arm and the warmth of her body against hers felt comforting.

“It’s not yours either, Franky. You believed you were doing right by Kim, didn’t you, by giving her the opportunity to fix things without incriminating herself?” Franky nodded. “Well, that is all any of us can do, act as we believe is right.”

“If I’d been straight with you and told you there was a bomb Kim would still be alive,” Franky confessed what was at the heart of her distress. Her choices had led Kim to her death.

“Yes,” Erica admitted quietly, “but other innocent lives might have been lost. These IEDs are highly volatile,” she used Fletch’s words, “the bomb squad might well have triggered the bomb when they attempted to defuse it.”  

Franky considered this. Erica had given her another perspective on what had happened, one she hadn’t thought of before. They sat in silence for a while. “Guess you weren’t expecting this when you came visiting,” Franky said sheepishly.

“I never know what to expect with you,” Erica admitted distractedly, she was thinking. “I’m going to call off the cameras tomorrow,” she said suddenly.

“No, don’t,” Franky replied. “I’m okay, really, I feel better now. You’ve helped,” Franky smiled remembering her final words in Erica’s office that afternoon. Erica stood up. “Where are you going?” Franky asked with surprise.

“I –” Erica looked uncertain.

Franky stood up. “I don’t want you to go,” she murmured in Erica’s ear, her good arm encircling the Governor’s waist, pulling her close.

Franky kissed her and Erica could taste the remnants of salty tears. The kiss began softly and hesitantly as though neither was sure of the other’s reaction then Franky’s response became more urgent and the kiss deepened.

The prisoner felt spent and hollow after her emotional outburst and in need of an intense physical encounter that would exhaust her body the way her mind was exhausted. She needed to punch something over and over or do push-ups until she collapsed or have intense, satisfying sex.

Erica sensed this. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered as her hands tightened on Franky’s hips.

“You won’t,” replied Franky hoarsely as she moved her lips to Erica’s neck. Erica moved a hand to Franky’s breast and felt her respond immediately. She pulled off the restricting tank top and fumbled with her bra strap until it released. She pulled the bra away impatiently and pushed Franky back onto the bed where she could explore those nipples with her tongue and her lips. She could have spent all night exploring Franky's firm, exciting body until she knew every inch of it.

Franky felt an ache building in intensity between her legs and she groaned. Erica slid her hand down Franky’s torso and heard Franky gasp as she slipped her hand past her sweatpants waistband and into her knickers. Franky was wet and was desperate for a quick, rough, intense release. She pressed against Erica’s hand impatiently and the Governor responded making Franky come again and again until the prisoner was spent.

“Fuck,” Franky said in amazement when she had recovered enough to speak. “You’re a natural.”

Erica smiled at the compliment as she checked her appearance in the mirror. She was still fully clothed. Franky pulled on her top. “Are you sure you’re okay with being filmed tomorrow?” Erica asked with a frown, looking across to the younger woman.

Franky tilted her head and smiled. “I love that you worry about me,” was all she said.


	20. Publicity Power

Things went a little crazy the day the cameras came to Wentworth. The women had been briefed on the documentary filming and told they could request to have their faces obscured should they wish to remain anonymous. They were also warned any trouble would be dealt with severely.

Some women couldn’t wait to get in front of those cameras. Word on where Franky was being filmed went viral around the prison and flocks of wannabe celebrity prisoners appeared from nowhere to flash their smiles, tits and anything else they thought might be camera worthy.

Franky went from isolated to Miss Popularity in a matter of hours. At breakfast she had eaten alone.   By lunch she had women fighting for seats at her table, desperate to engage her in conversation and treating her as their best mate. Franky watched all this occur with bewildered amusement.

She was heading to the library for her session with Erica when a bull dyke from J block cornered her in the corridor, pushed her up against the wall, and had her hands on Franky’s breasts and her tongue down her throat before Franky could do anything to stop it. The camera crew lapped it up as Franky managed to fight off the bigger woman with a knee to the crutch and a crack over the head with her plastered arm.

Franky picked up her books from the ground where they had fallen and walked away.

“Hey Franks,” she heard the bull dyke call out, “you can lick my pussy anytime!”

“Fucking crazy bitch,” muttered Franky as she wiped her hand across her mouth in disgust.

She thrust open the library door and immediately felt calmer. Her eyes rested on Erica, who was early for once, already seated at their usual table. She had dressed carefully in a stylish outfit which brought out the blue in her eyes and showed her slim figure to advantage. Franky smiled appreciatively. She sat down across from her.

“Can you sit next to each other?” the camera man asked. “I can get both of you in shot that way.”

Franky shrugged and walked around the table and sat in the chair next to Erica. They were so close Franky’s thigh touched Erica’s under the table. She looked at the Governor’s profile and saw her colour heighten slightly as she shifted her leg away. Franky smiled to herself. It was like the early days of their tutoring sessions when Franky would make an advance which Erica would reject.

The session went for an hour. To begin with Erica went over the chapters they had worked through before the bomb blast. The Governor was pleased to see Franky had retained most of what she had learnt. Somehow their thighs ended up against each other and this time neither shifted.

Soon they forgot about the camera. They were engrossed in a debate about the point at which an individual within a company can cease to be responsible for a criminal act. Franky argued passionately that an individual could not always be held responsible. “What if I have been trained and that training does not provide me with sufficient skills to deal with a situation which leads to a death? At what point am I responsible, my training instructor or my organisation?”

“What do you think?” Erica asked.

“Well, I don’t see how I can be responsible,” Franky stated emphatically.

Erica tapped her finger on the pages of the book open in front of her. “What does the law tell you though?”

Franky was silent. Erica’s ring finger was bare. The engagement ring which had been a prominent accessory since it first appeared was missing. Franky wondered what it meant. She thought back to the previous day. Had Erica been wearing the ring in her cell? She couldn’t remember but she had been distracted at the time. Earlier that same day though, in her office, she was positive she saw the ring. Franky looked at Erica catching her eye. She couldn’t read anything in the Governor’s face. There had been nothing to indicate any change in her circumstances. Whatever might have happened between her and Mark, Erica had schooled her features to reflect nothing but a calm, careful demeanour.

“Franky?” Erica prompted.

She frowned but answered the question. “It tells me that it sides with the corporation,” she replied with a sigh.

“Not always,” the Governor pointed out.

“Almost always,” countered the prisoner.

“Tell me when it doesn’t,” Erica pushed. Franky leant forward over the book and studied the page. She knew the answer but wanted time to think. How could she speak with Erica privately when a camera was following her everywhere?

“Liability has to be demonstrated through the existence of role, capacity and causal responsibility,” she said at last. Franky turned her head and her face was inches away from Erica’s. She saw Erica lick her bottom lip and was distracted by that mouth, which the night before had been kissing intimate parts of her body.

Erica cleared her throat. “I think we’ll finish there.” Franky sat back and began collecting her books. “Well done today.” She said cautiously, afraid anything more might be revealing too much.

“See you next week, Miss Davidson,” Franky said with a wink and a quick smile. Or sooner, thought the prisoner, as she watched Erica leave, admiring the way her skirt hugged her arse and her heels emphasised the shape of her legs.

In the exercise yard Franky was attempting to shoot hoops one handed without much success. It didn’t matter, she had a host of women prepared to chase down the ball and toss it back to her, which she caught deftly despite her handicap. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar figure. She grinned and tossed the ball away.

“Boomer!” she called out.

The big girl looked up from her conversation and a large smile broke across her face. When Franky reached her, Boomer picked her up and squeezed her in a bear hug. “Careful!” Franky cautioned but she was smiling. “They let you out,” Franky said.

“Miss Davidson did,” Boomer said as she put Franky down. She frowned and was silent. “It sucks about Kim” she said at last.

Franky nodded. “Yeah,” she acknowledged.

There was a commotion amongst the women near the tables. A fight broke out and Franky saw the three thugs from yesterday had bailed up Kat. One knocked her down and held her while another ripped her prosthetic leg off its stump and threw it against the wall.  

“Shit,” Franky said, “Booms, can you sort them out?” Boomer nodded grimly and advanced with a steely determination into the mêlée. Franky saw out of the corner of her eye that the camera crew had turned their attention to the fight. This was her chance.

She slipped into the main building and ran into Vera immediately. “Doyle, where are you going?” the deputy asked.

“There’s a fight, Miss Bennett, you might want to sort it out,” Franky offered and watched the deputy disappear out into the yard.

There was no one outside the Governor’s office. The Secretary’s desk was unmanned and when Franky tried the door to Erica’s office it opened. She slipped inside. Shit! The office itself was empty too. Erica was elsewhere. As she was deciding what to do, she heard footsteps and a male voice speaking. She looked around quickly and saw the door to the bathroom. She slipped inside and hid behind the door but left it ajar so she could still hear what was being said. The door to the office opened and Franky recognised Channing’s voice.

“No, I’m here now,” a pause, “she’s not here.” Another pause and Franky realised he was talking on his phone. “I’ll wait until she turns up.” Franky heard Channing sit down. “I’m not going down for this, Erica can bloody well take the fall, tee up a meeting with your boss before that report gets circulated. I need to plant some seeds.” Channing laughed. “Well, I’ve got insider knowledge, one of the prison officers has been feeding me stuff. I think I can convince your review team leader that this place would be better off with someone tougher in charge. All right, text me the meeting details when it’s sorted.” He rang off.

Franky waited behind the door thinking through what she’d just heard and the possible implications. She heard Erica enter not long afterwards.

“Derek, what can I do for you?” she said and Franky could hear the wariness in her voice.

“I just popped in to give you this,” he said, and Franky heard a rustle of papers.

“Bea Smith’s release form,” Erica said.

Franky heard Channing stand up. “You better have control of this documentary, Erica, and what goes to air,” he warned.   “I’d hate to see any bloody reprisals between Smith and Doyle on prime-time television.” Franky heard the door to the office open. “I’ll be looking for a new Governor if I do.” The door closed.

Franky waited. She heard Erica sit down. She counted to ten then walked out of the bathroom. “That fucking arsehole!” she exclaimed as she came through the door.

Erica gasped. “Jesus Christ Franky, what the hell are you doing here?” She watched the prisoner pace the room.

Franky stopped in front of the desk. “Looking for you,” she said.

“Franky, you are meant to have a film crew following you,” Erica said with exasperation, “where the hell are they?”

“I gave them the slip,” the prisoner said as though it was obvious.

Erica rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked impatiently. “We have a contract with the network, Franky, you can’t just go around giving them the slip whenever you feel like it.”

“Erica, I think you should be more concerned with that bastard Channing and what he’s up to than me!” Franky leant her hands on the back of the visitor’s chair.

“What are you talking about? You knew Bea would come back from solitary eventually,” Erica frowned in genuine confusion.

“Bea?” it was Franky’s turn to frown.

“Yes, and to be perfectly honest Franky, you have far more control over the outcome of the Bea situation than I do.”

“I’m not talking about Bea.” Franky took a deep breath and spoke more calmly. “I overheard Channing talking on the phone just now. He is about to set you up with his internal review buddies. He is going to fuck you over, Erica.” Franky shook her head. Erica was silent. She was studying the desk in front of her. “Erica? Did you hear what I said?”

The Governor looked up. “What did he say exactly?” She asked at last. Franky repeated what she’d overheard. “Okay, but you didn’t hear when the meeting would be?” Franky shook her head. She watched Erica’s face, the Governor was thinking hard, she hoped Erica was even more cunning than Channing. “You have to get back to that film crew, Franky,” was all she said.

“What are you going to do?” Franky asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Publicity is a powerful thing though, and I can control it at the moment.” Franky looked concerned, as plans went, this one sounded as if it could backfire in a second. Franky knew better than anyone how quickly good publicity could turn bad. She headed to the door. “So why did you want to see me?” Erica asked as she reached it.

Franky turned. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. The Governor needed to focus on keeping her job. Franky didn’t like the idea that Erica might not be at Wentworth for much longer.


	21. Problem Solving

Franky leant against the doorframe watching. The camera crew hovered waiting for Franky to either enter the cell or walk away. Finally she spoke. “How’s the leg, kid?”

Kat looked up. She rolled up her pant leg and showed Franky the fake limb. It was battered and the mechanism which attached it to her leg looked broken. Kat seemed to have fashioned some temporary fix to help the prosthetic stay connected to the stump.

“Doesn’t look like you’ll be running any marathons,” Franky said as Kat rolled her pant leg back down.

“I don’t want to run a marathon,” Kat replied seriously. ”Do you?”

Franky laughed. “Are you going to take everything I say literally?”

Kat looked confused. “Yes,” she said with surprise.

“Well, that could be tricky.” She held out a book she’d had under her arm. “Here, I thought you might like to borrow this.”

“I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me,” Kat reminded her.

Franky put the book on the bed. “Shit kid, you’re not going to make me apologise, are you?” Franky asked with a frown.

“No,” Kat said seriously. “You were waiting for someone, not me, and I surprised you.” The kid was astute Franky realised.

“You thought I was Er –” Franky put her hand over Kat’s mouth before she could finish the word. She looked into Kat’s startled brown eyes and shook her head slightly and mouthed the word ‘cameras’. Kat looked over Franky’s shoulder into the camera lens. She nodded and Franky slowly took her hand away.

Franky sat on the bed next to her. “You know kid, you’re going to have to sort out your little problem.” Franky leant against the wall. “Otherwise you will end up permanently scarred or worse before you leave here.”

“How do I do that?” Kat frowned. “I’m not strong and I can’t fight, and now I can’t even run.”

“But you’re smart,” Franky pointed out. “And brains will beat brawn every time even in this place. So work something out, using this,” Franky tapped Kat’s head. She got up. “Meanwhile, stick close to Boomer, she can be your brawn.”

Erica picked up the phone and dialled. "Hi, it's Lisa Mitchell, Derek Channing's EA, I wanted to confirm his meeting time, it's 3pm tomorrow, isn't it?" She waited. "Oh, Friday at 2pm. Fine, thanks, yes lucky I checked." Erica rang off.

She tapped her fingers against the desk. Now she knew when Channing was meeting with the review team leader but it didn't really help her. If Channing was going to offer her up as the sacrificial lamb, she needed to counter that with a very good reason why sacking her would be a bad strategy. Her mind was a blank. Actually, from a purely objective basis she could see it had merit. The Department would be seen to be taking firm action and who better to be held accountable than the Governor of Wentworth. A prison rife with smuggling, a Governor who allowed such activities to go on unchecked, a level of supervision which allowed bombs to be built out of contraband under the very noses of prison staff, a poorly managed budget which left officers unsupported in their duties. The list went on.

On the plus side, she had had more prisoners undertaking additional studies than any other prison in the State, or in fact the country. She had also put the budget into a healthy surplus by pursuing the documentary. She picked up the contract she'd negotiated with the network and flicked to the section on specified personnel. She smiled grimly. She remembered that Angela had insisted that Franky be listed in the contract because the documentary relied on her involvement but also included was Erica's name as Governor of Wentworth. Erica suspected that Angela had wanted to ensure Erica could not back out of being interviewed later on. Perhaps this would play in her favour now.

She picked up the phone again and called Angela Stone.

"Can we meet?" Erica asked after preliminaries were out of the way. Angela was willing. "Not here though," she added.

"Sounds intriguing," the producer replied. They agreed on a time and place.

Vera knocked and entered. She placed a weapon on Erica's desk. She was frowning. "This was found on the cameraman." It was clear Vera had been expecting this from the first day of filming.

Erica looked at her watch, she really had to pack up and leave now if she was to make it on time for her rendezvous with Angela Stone. "He was smuggling it in?" She queried. "Who for?"

"It was found when he was searched leaving the prison," Vera clarified. "He claims he picked it up during an altercation with some prisoners."

"When he was following Franky?" Erica asked with a sinking feeling. Bea Smith had been released back onto the cell block that afternoon and her fear that reprisals would occur quickly seemed to be justified.

"Apparently," her deputy sounded sceptical.

"Have you detained the cameraman?" Vera nodded. "Well there must be some footage of what occurred, get a copy of it," Erica said, trying to hold back her frustration. Vera left and Erica tapped her fingers against her desk impatiently. Fifteen minutes later her deputy returned with a DVD. Erica put it into her laptop.

Erica watched nervously. Franky filled the screen, calm, confident, she had a presence on camera. The clarity was so much better than the grainy surveillance cameras and there was no denying her good looks even in the drab prison clothes. Erica was conscious of Vera's presence over her shoulder and fast forwarded to the altercation.

Franky had been returning from the gym when it happened. This time they had the element of surprise. Franky had a fleeting moment to be surprised they had attacked in full view of the camera. The first thug held her, the second thug hit her and the third thug pulled a shiv made from a toothbrush and a razor blade.

“This is for interfering where you're not wanted, Doyle," she had said as she slashed the weapon across Franky's face. The prisoner had only just managed to get her head out of the way in time. The third thug grabbed hold of her jaw and held it tight.

Franky struggled. “You’ll have to do better than that to scare me,” she managed to spit out.

Franky's bravado would fool the audience but Erica could see the prisoner's demeanour masked concern for her well-being. Franky knew she was in a tricky situation, outnumbered and one of her opponents armed, she had limited options and little hope she could save herself.

The ring leader put the shiv against Franky's throat but before she could slice, her hand was grabbed from behind and slammed against the wall with enough force to make her drop the weapon.

The second thug made a grab for it but a foot kicked it away towards the cameraman who picked it up. The first thug released her and Franky, who was winded from a well-aimed punch to her diaphragm, sank to the ground. She heard her attackers take off but her rescuer remained where she was. Franky looked up.

"Hiya Red," Franky greeted her with a wry smile. "Great timing," Bea Smith watched as Franky got to her feet. "I heard they were letting you back onto the cell block."

"Yeah," was all Bea said. She was looking at the cameras. "What was that about?" She asked at last.

Franky shrugged. "Must have eaten the last of the ice cream, you know how these women get about their favourite foods."

“I thought you’d be top dog by now,” Bea looked at Franky’s plastered arm. “Guess not though,” she added.

“I don’t have any issue with you, Red, you play nicely and we’ll get on okay,” Franky lay down the rules.

"You stay out of my business, Franky, and then we'll get on okay," Bea warned, establishing her own ground rules.

Franky watched her walk off.

Bea's timely rescue came as a surprise to Erica. She felt relieved and grateful for her interference which had surely saved Franky from injury. She hit pause.

"Put them in solitary," was all she said.

Angela Stone was seated at a table with a glass of wine when Erica arrived at the bar. She was dressed stylishly as though she had come straight from work. Erica ordered a wine from a passing waitress.

"Thank you for meeting with me, I know this must seem strange," Erica acknowledged as she sat down.

"You certainly have my attention, Miss Davidson," the producer replied with a smile.

"Call me Erica please," she paused. "Actually I wanted to ask a favour of you," Erica admitted.   Angela Stone merely raised her eyebrows and Erica wondered if this happened a lot to network producers. She explained her dilemma. "My position is tenuous given the fall-out from the bomb and the need for the Department to find a scapegoat. If I go your documentary will be in jeopardy," she finished with as the waitress brought her wine.

"It would be unfortunate if you were no longer Governor, Erica, but I cannot see how it will stop the documentary from proceeding," Angela stated with a frown. "We have a contract in place," she pointed out.

"Franky will refuse to do it, that's how," Erica told her plainly. "Your contract is with the Department, not Franky Doyle, and while she may be forced to sit in a room with your interviewer there is nothing in place which forces her to speak. Without Franky's willing participation you will have nothing worth putting to air."

"I see," Angela sipped her wine.

"Trust me Angela, I'm not trying to threaten you," Erica took a deep breath, "I need your help and I'm merely explaining to you how things are."

"But I do not understand why your leaving will cause such a change of heart for Franky or how I can help. Do you think I could influence her decision? If you do, then you are over estimating our relationship."

"No, I need something else from you," the Governor admitted, ignoring the first statement and addressing the question. "In a few days I expect you will receive a call asking you to confirm your agreement to continue with the documentary without my involvement. I want you to say that your contract specifically states I will be involved and you will consider it a breach of contract if that doesn't occur."

"And what will you give me in return?" The producer asked.

Erica frowned. "I've told you, you'll get Franky's participation."

"Yes, so you've said, but I would like something else," Angela sipped her wine.

Erica felt annoyed. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. "I have nothing else to give you," she stated.

The producer smiled. "Yes you do. I would like you to get Franky to agree to talk about her father during the interviews."

Erica sat back. "I can't do that," she said with finality. "It is entirely Franky's decision."

"But from what you say, Franky will be influenced by you, all I ask is that you ask her."

"What you are asking is impossible," Erica said emphatically. "Franky's relationship with her father is not one she has discussed with me and I cannot ask her to explore it on national television in order to save my job!" Erica felt angry that the producer would even suggest it. She could see Angela was watching her intently.

"You care about her," Angela said with surprise and a certain curiosity.

Erica glanced away quickly, her heart was pounding. She hadn't analysed her feelings for Franky too closely. She was attracted to her, felt the full force of her charisma, was fascinated by her. She saw Franky's vulnerability and her potential. Erica had not questioned anything beyond that.

Her hand went automatically to her ring finger to fiddle with her engagement ring. It wasn’t there. How many times had she done that since she began wearing it because it had felt so awkward? Now she went there for comfort, for safety and it was gone. Just as Mark was gone, chased away by absence – physical, mental and emotional absence. He’d taken his Armani suits, gentle nature and endless patience, and left in his wake only surprise and resignation.

She willed herself to look Angela in the eye. "I care about all the women," she replied distantly.

Angela nodded. "Of course," was all she said. After a moment she sipped her wine, watching the Governor from over the rim of her glass, her dark eyes thoughtful. "It must be difficult," she said at last.

"What?" Erica asked, her expression wary as she looked at her companion.

"Caring for all these broken women, watching them struggle with their demons and failing to conquer them, watching them slip backwards time and time again when you've worked so hard to help them fight," Angela offered with a sympathetic smile.

"Some succeed," Erica countered, "and those are worth all the setbacks." She smiled thinly. "You tell stories about people's journeys in your documentaries and all those stories contain setbacks. It is what makes the story worth telling," she pointed out. "I see those stories as they unfold." She drained her glass and stood up. "I've taken up enough of your time, Angela."

The meeting had been a waste of time. She was no closer to saving her job and now had to face the very real prospect of being fired. She only had two days left to come up with something. It seemed impossible. The job she wouldn't miss. The politics were wearing and much of her time was wasted in administration. Then she thought about Franky. She would miss Franky, she realised, and the prospect of seeing her each day.

Franky wouldn’t quit trying. She was a fighter. It was one of the things Erica admired about her. She would be appalled to know Erica was contemplating just giving up and letting Channing win.

Channing was the problem, Erica realised, not her. He planned to put her in the firing line, which must mean she wasn’t currently there. She had been thinking about things all wrong. She smiled and picked up her phone. There was one chance to save her job.


	22. Checkmate

It was Friday morning. Erica was in early. Today was D day – D for Derek Channing. Her plan was not fool proof. It relied on luck and her reading of Channing’s character being accurate. She would lose the game today or win it.

She had checked her emails and finished her coffee before her phone rang. It was the front gate, right on schedule. “There is a woman at the gate saying you are expecting her,” the prison officer said, “a Miss Sarah Carillo?”

“Yes, I’m expecting her, she is temping while my secretary is on leave, can you process her and have someone escort her to my office?” The Governor asked.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Erica watched as a prison officer escorted Sarah Carillo into the room. Once he’d left, Erica walked over to the woman and gave her a welcoming hug. “Thank you for doing this, you look fantastic!”

Sarah smiled. “Thank you, do you think I will be sufficiently tempting?” She stood back to allow Erica a proper look. Sarah was a year younger than Erica. They had met at university but Sarah had dropped out of law to pursue an acting career. She had a Spanish father and an Australian mother and the result had been a stunning blend of cultures. Her luscious long dark curls, flawless olive skin, ebony eyes, high cheek bones, and curvaceous figure combined into a beautiful woman. She was dressed in an outfit which emphasised her curves and sultry looks. 

“You look perfect for the part,” Erica acknowledged. “If Channing isn’t tempted then I have completely misjudged him. I think with even the smallest encouragement from you he won’t be able to resist.”

“Well, I’ll try not to let you down,” Sarah said with another smile. “Where do you want me?”

“Just outside my office,” Erica gestured to her secretary’s desk. “At 9.30, call Channing, his number is on the contacts list, ask him to come down immediately. Tell him that I need him present for a disciplinary meeting with one of the prisoners. When he gets here, tell him I’ve been delayed but should be here in 20 minutes. Offer to make him a coffee, take him into this office and do whatever you have to get him into a compromising position. Don’t worry, I won’t be far away.”

Sarah nodded. “It sounds simple enough.”

“I am way out on a limb here, Sarah.” Erica admitted. “If it goes wrong just pull the pin, I don’t want you to –”

Sarah interrupted. “Don’t worry, Erica, I can handle it. From what you say, this guy Channing is a complete bastard and I’m happy to help you bring him down. In fact, bring it on I say!” She added feistily. “I have to deal with this sort of shit all the time in my industry, and I’m sick of it, this is one for the girls.”

Erica felt relieved. Sarah’s Spanish blood was up and at university that had always meant she was difficult to distract from the task at hand.

Boomer, Kat and Franky were playing cards in the communal area of cell block H. The camera was there too. Franky could see it out of the corner of her eye. She was sick of being filmed. She had seen virtually nothing of Erica since it arrived and the contact they did have was restrained and not at all physical. Franky wanted everything to return to how it had been.

That wasn’t going to happen though. Bea was back and she had changed. Franky could see that, she was sharper, harder and her naivety was gone. She would not be so easily manipulated in future. Bea could well have blamed Franky for what happened with Jacs and want revenge but instead she had effectively rescued her from a tricky situation. Franky was wary. In her experience people never did anything for purely altruistic reasons.

"Is Bea top dog then?" Kat asked as she discarded.

"No she bloody well isn't," Franky declared as she picked up Kat's discarded card and tossed one of her own down on the pile.

"Liz said she is," Kat countered.

"Liz doesn't know shit," was all Franky said.

"Did Bea really murder one of the other prisoners?" Kat asked as she picked up a card from the stack. She discarded a two of clubs which Franky promptly picked up. She lay down her cards.

"Gin," she said with satisfaction.

"Shit, I was collecting twos," Boomer complained as she tossed in her cards.

Franky laughed. "Tough shit, Booms!" She gathered the cards to re-deal.

"Franky, did Bea murder Jacs?" Kat asked again.

"Haven't you read the rule book? You shouldn't ask the women what they may have done, you probably won't like what you hear." A voice said from behind Kat.

Franky looked up from her dealing to see Bea standing nearby watching them.

"There's a rule book?" Kat asked seriously. She turned around and eyed Bea curiously.

Boomer laughed. "For a uni graduate you are pretty dumb," she said without malice.

"I didn't graduate," Kat clarified. "I was arrested before the end of my first year."

Franky was watching Bea warily. There was no sign of her two stalwarts, Liz and Doreen, and Franky wondered if Bea had been briefed on the power plays which had occurred in her absence.

"Would you like to play?" Kat asked Bea in a friendly tone.

“No she wouldn’t,” Franky said quickly. Franky had no intention of letting Bea get too close to her few remaining allies. She frowned at Kat, who looked surprised in return.

Bea smiled at Kat and shook her head. “Not today, you keep playing though,” to Franky’s ears it sounded suspiciously like an instruction. She put down the cards and sat back, folding her arms across her chest, looking defiant. Bea was watching her.

Franky heard the sound of heels coming down the corridor and looked towards the entrance expectantly. It wasn't often that Erica made personal calls. Sure enough though, the Governor of Wentworth walked into the cell block. She was alone. Franky watched as she took in the scene. Her eyes sought out Franky.

"Hello Miss Davidson," Kat greeted the Governor with a friendly smile.

Erica nodded. "It’s Kat isn’t it?” She asked kindly. She could see the swelling had gone down but the girl’s face was still littered with bruises.

"Yes, well Katrina is my full-name but everyone has always called me Kat,” then she added, “except my Gran that is, she calls me Kitten," Kat answered in more detail than anyone was expecting.

Boomer laughed. Erica was watching Franky. Bea was staring at Kat. Franky looked from Kat to Erica and grinned. Kat was one of the funniest people she had ever met.

"I need a word with you," Erica said briskly to Franky. Erica was very business-like, which was not unusual when others were present, but her next words stunned the prisoner. “You’ve been smuggling drugs into the prison.” The Governor said.

Franky looked astonished. “What?”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, Franky, one of your customers offered you up in exchange for less time in solitary.” Erica said calmly. “It’s disappointing that after all your hard work, you are willing to throw away the opportunities you’ve been given.”

“What the fuck?” Franky exclaimed. “This is bullshit!” She stood up. “I’m not dealing in drugs!” Franky’s eyes pleaded with Erica.

“You can explain yourself to Mr Channing,” Erica said impassively. “We’ve been here before though,” she finished with.

Franky’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t understand where this was coming from or why Erica seemed so convinced it was true. She looked over to Bea, who was watching curiously. Fuck, thought Franky, this was a set-up by Bea or her cronies.

“Let’s go,” Erica said and indicated Franky should precede her out of the cell block. The camera brought up the rear. Erica watched Franky’s manner as she walked ahead of her. The swagger was missing and her shoulders drooped slightly. Erica couldn’t see her face but imagined it was fashioned into a steely expression designed to protect. She hoped Franky would forgive her for this.

As she reached her office, Erica could feel tension building within her. This was the moment. Franky paused, standing aside as Erica reached forward to open the door to the office. She was frowning. Erica turned the handle and swung the door open, instead of entering though she stepped aside so the camera had an unobstructed view into the office. Erica could see in from her position and the tableau she saw made her heart sing.

Sarah was up on the desk with her blouse unbuttoned and Channing had his hand up her skirt and was kissing her.

“Jesus Christ Derek, what the hell are you doing?” Erica exclaimed as she entered the room. The pair broke apart immediately. Erica could see the relief on Sarah’s face and realised they had arrived just in time. Sarah turned away from the camera to re-button her blouse and adjust her skirt. Channing moved quickly behind the back of the visitor’s chair and Erica hid a smile. He had an erection, she realised, how unfortunate!

“Turn that bloody thing off,” Channing ordered. The cameraman didn’t move.

Erica turned to her friend. “Sarah?” she questioned. “Are you all right?”

The woman was visibly upset. “I brought him a coffee and he jumped me. I wasn’t able to fight him off.” She looked at Channing with a dagger expression and said something in Spanish.

“That is rubbish,” Channing said quickly. “She came on to me.”

Erica turned to the cameraman. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room.” She ushered him out and closed the door.

The three remaining occupants eyed her curiously. “This is an awkward situation,” she began carefully. “Sarah, I completely understand if you want to report this to the police.” She looked across to her friend. “Is that what you would like to do?”

“Yes,” Sarah said immediately.

Erica nodded. “There will be an investigation and it will be your word against Mr Channing’s, do you understand that?”

“There is the footage from the camera,” Sarah pointed out.

“I’m afraid that only proves there was a sexual encounter, not who instigated it or whether there was mutual consent. It is certainly enough for Mr Channing to lose his job but not sufficient to prove a case of sexual assault.” Erica explained. “You may have to suffer the indignity of some intrusive questioning and a physical examination by the police and they still may decide not to pursue the case.” She sounded apologetic.

Sarah looked unsure. “He’ll lose his job though, even if I don’t report it?”

Erica nodded. “Absolutely, you can rely on me to pursue this up the line. His behaviour is inexcusable.” She shot a look of disgust in Channing’s direction. “Why don’t you take a moment to think about it? Perhaps a cup of tea would be beneficial,” she suggested.

Sarah nodded and left the room. As soon as she had gone Channing spoke. “This is bullshit, Erica. She is just trying to save her arse.”

“Christ Derek, what the hell were you thinking?” Erica asked. “I’m going to have to report this.”

Channing looked at Franky. “Get her out of here,” he demanded.

Erica looked at Franky for the first time since they had entered the office. The prisoner was watching proceedings with a broad grin on her face. No wonder Channing found her presence so offensive. “Franky, can I trust you to return to the cell block and not mention this to anyone?”

Franky just couldn’t stop smiling. She did try as she nodded briefly but her delight in seeing Channing so perfectly cornered couldn’t be contained.

“I want that footage,” Channing said as soon as the prisoner had left.

Erica walked around her desk and faced Channing. “I don’t think so, Derek,” she said with a small smile. “Let’s revisit the situation for a moment. You have completely compromised yourself with that secretary. Even if I am able to talk her out of reporting it to the police, you will still face disciplinary action. Senior management take a very dim view of this sort of thing these days,” she reminded him. She sat down.

“If they find out about it,” Channing said.

“How could they not?” Erica asked with astonishment. “There were witnesses and, as you point out, film footage.”

“I know you can gag Doyle if necessary, she is relying on you for her law degree. The temp will be gone so that only leaves you,” Channing looked at her closely. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

Erica was silent as she studied Channing. She leant forward and put her elbows on the desk resting her chin in her hands. He waited. “All right,” she said at last as she sat back into her chair. “I won’t say anything and in return you will begin to actively support me in my position as Governor of this prison instead of plotting and scheming to bring me down.” Channing looked as though he was about to deny it. “Don’t bother Derek, I know perfectly well you have a meeting with the review team leader this afternoon and you plan to offer me up as sacrificial lamb.” He looked surprised at that. “Do we have a deal?”

“And the footage?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t make the documentary,” Erica smiled, “but I’ll keep a copy of it just in case you forget your part of the bargain.”

He had nowhere to go, she thought with satisfaction, and he knew it.


	23. One Question Too Many

Franky was watching Erica. She had just finished explaining the sting on Channing. It was clever, Franky acknowledged, and cunning. The plan was inspired but what impressed Franky was the flawless execution.

“You’d make a pretty good crim,” she said in response.

Erica was acting strangely. She was always so in control of herself but now she seemed completely wired. She couldn’t seem to keep still. If Franky hadn’t known better she’d have said Erica was high. They were in her office. It was late in the day. The film crew had finally left, having wrapped up the last day filming Franky. She was happy to see the back of them. She still had to do the interviews but at least she could walk around the prison without being mobbed.

Erica stopped pacing and turned to Franky. “I’m sorry about before, when I accused you of dealing,” she looked apologetic. “You’ve every right to be angry with me but I needed to get the camera to my office to set up Channing.”

Franky frowned. “You could have just summoned me, Erica.”

“No, that wouldn’t have worked,” Erica replied. “I couldn’t let another prison officer witness Channing’s indiscretion. I was blackmailing him, Franky, and Vera would have wanted to follow the harassment policy word for word. Anyway, the timing had to be perfect,” she added, almost dismissively.

Franky was still frowning. “You could have warned me then.”

Erica paused. “Yes, maybe I could have,” she acknowledged, “but I didn’t know if you would be able to pull off your part if you knew what was happening. These television people interpret people’s performances all the time. I couldn’t risk you overplaying it.” Franky looked offended.

Erica gave her a reproachful look. “Franky, aren’t you glad Channing is no longer a threat?”

Franky sighed then nodded. Erica smiled slowly. “Well, it’s been a good day then, don’t you think?” she continued to smile but with intent. “I feel like celebrating.” Franky could feel her heart begin to race.

Erica walked towards her. She slid her hands around Franky’s waist. “You should have seen the look on his face when he realised I held all the cards,” she oozed self-congratulation.

“How did it make you feel?” Franky asked curiously. She glanced quickly towards the internal window but there was no one around. Erica moved closer.

“Fantastic,” breathed Erica into her ear. “Better than sex,” she kissed Franky’s neck then her throat.

Franky pulled back in surprise.   “Better than sex?”

“Maybe,” Erica murmured as her mouth sought out Franky’s. She kissed her hungrily.

Franky broke away. She was frowning again. “I must be losing my touch,” she muttered.

“Franky,” Erica pleaded. “I meant it was an aphrodisiac,” she clarified quickly.

“Mm,” Franky responded, “sure you did.”

“Well, we could spend the time discussing what I meant if you like,” Erica stepped back.

Franky saw her mistake. “Oh no, I don’t think we should do that,” she took Erica’s hand and led her to the couch. “Talking is overrated,” she said as she sat on the two seater. “I can see there is only one way to convince you sex is better.”

Erica straddled her. “How’s that then?” She kissed her and when Franky started to unbutton her blouse, Erica took hold of her hands. The plaster caused her a problem until she worked out to hold onto Franky’s fingers. “Oh no you don’t, Doyle, today I’m in control.”

Franky looked up at her and grinned. “Just because you had a bit of a win today, you want to be in control?”

“Yes,” Erica kissed her again. It was intense and went on forever. Franky struggled to release her hands but Erica’s grip was firm. Finally she released her but when Franky went back to unbuttoning her blouse, Erica stilled her hands. “Oh no, no touching,” she said firmly.

Franky reluctantly complied but secretly she thought Erica’s attempts to control were damn sexy. It was a turn on not being allowed to touch. Erica’s blouse was partially open and Franky caught glimpses of her low cut semi-transparent red bra when Erica moved.

Erica pulled off Franky’s sleeveless top. She was wearing a black sports bra. Erica found those utilitarian bras incredibly hot on Franky.   She looked like one of those fitness instructors who could make gym gear look appealing. Erica ran her fingers over the scars on Franky’s side, watching her face for signs of discomfort, but Franky didn’t flinch. She pulled down the straps of Franky’s bra and began exploring her breasts with her mouth. She slid off the couch and proceeded to kiss Franky down her torso towards her hips. She went further pulling off Franky’s prison pants and knickers. She pulled Franky towards her, exploring her with her tongue, which flicked and teased until Franky began to gasp. “Oh fuck Erica,” she exclaimed as she climaxed. Erica hadn’t finished though.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Franky asked a bit later as she pulled on her clothes. Erica had moved to the couch to sit beside Franky.

“I never said I hadn’t done it before,” Erica replied as she buttoned her blouse.

“Really?”   Franky was intrigued. She turned on the couch so she was facing Erica and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve slept with another woman?” she asked.

“Well it was a guy and a girl,” Erica admitted.

“You’ve had a threesome,” Franky said slightly surprised by the confession, “with Mark?”

“No, not with Mark,” Erica was dismissive. “It was before I met Mark, when I was sixteen, I was going through an experimental phase,” she laughed to herself. “It only happened once.”

“Why?”

“It freaked me out a bit I suppose,” Erica confessed. Franky was watching her fascinated. This was a whole side to Erica which Franky hadn’t seen.

“Having group sex?” she asked.

“No, how much I enjoyed having sex with a woman,” Erica admitted. She looked sideways at Franky, who was grinning. Erica threw a cushion at her.

Franky caught it and put it aside. She eyed Erica with predatory intent. She moved closer. “I don’t think we’ve finished here,” she said.

This time Erica let her unbutton her blouse and strip it from her. Franky discovered Erica’s red bra had matching knickers which also revealed slightly more than they should. “Did you plan to have sex today, Miss Davidson?” Franky asked as she ran her hands over Erica’s bra and felt her nipples harden. The material was so flimsy Franky had to be careful not to tear it as she removed it. They pulled off each other’s clothes. The couch wasn’t big enough to accommodate them and they rolled off it when Franky attempted to change positions. She banged her head on the floor as she fell and took the full force of Erica’s weight. “Fuck,” she muttered.

It was better on the floor though.   They had more room and Franky found she could lie full length on Erica and feel her naked body beneath her. She liked that. Erica’s skin felt silky against hers. She put Erica’s arms above her head and held them there as she explored her body leisurely with her mouth. She had an idea. She stood up and went over to the desk. She picked up some legal ribbon which had been used to tie some files together. She turned back to Erica, who was watching her curiously. Franky tied Erica’s wrists together then tied them over her head to the leg of the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Erica asked breathlessly. Franky could hear an edge of excitement in her voice.

“Restraining you,” she replied. “This is my show now.” She watched Erica’s reaction. She squirmed but the knots held firm. Franky straddled her and placed kisses on her stomach until she reached her breasts where she circled Erica’s nipples lightly with her tongue, sucking them until they stood proudly. She rested on her elbows, putting herself between Erica’s legs and kissed her.

Erica’s legs wrapped round her and Franky moved her hand down so she could fuck Erica with her fingers while she kissed her. She was so wet Franky slid her fingers in immediately. Erica stopped moaning and started gasping. Franky concentrated on bringing Erica close to climax then backing off. Erica squirmed more franticly. Franky knew she was close to coming. “It’s better isn’t?” Franky murmured in her ear. “Sex?” She released her.

“Yes,” Erica gasped as she came. “Christ!” Franky kissed her and rolled off her feeling pretty satisfied with herself. 

Once she had untied Erica, she held her hand, holding their palms together, fingers splayed against fingers. They both had fine hands with long tapered fingers. Franky’s nails were short and bare though while Erica’s were manicured and had a clear gloss. Their fingers interlocked.

“You’re not wearing your engagement ring,” Franky pointed out. She asked the question that had been on her mind for days. “What happened?”

Erica reclaimed her hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She said quickly.

“Why? What happened?” Franky frowned. She needed to know.

“Franky,” Erica said impatiently. “I’ve said I don’t want to talk about it.” She got up and began to dress.

Franky watched her. Erica was retreating. Somewhere inside Franky knew she shouldn’t push it but wait until Erica was ready to tell her. “Was it because of me?” she asked after a moment. She didn’t know what she expected to hear.

“Christ Franky!” Erica pulled on her blouse and began buttoning it. Frown lines appeared on her forehead. “I’m not going to discuss Mark with you.”

“Why not?” Franky couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“It has nothing to do with you!” Erica said in exasperation. “That’s why!”

“Okay, okay,” Franky got up and collected her own clothes. They finished dressing in silence.

“I’ll take you back to your cell block,” Erica said quietly. Franky nodded. She felt miserable.

How could life be good one minute and shit the next, she asked herself as she walked. Prison was like that though, little pockets of sunshine followed by days of rain. She looked at Erica’s profile, she was Governor again, distant, courteous, in control.

“I’ll let you know when you’re scheduled to be interviewed,” she said as they parted. Franky nodded glumly.

The communal area was fully occupied. Franky walked towards her cell. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

Liz wasn’t letting her off the hook though. “Hey Franky,” she called out. “How did your little one on one go with the Governor?” Franky ignored her. “Do you call her Miss Davidson or Erica when you’re fucking her?”

Franky changed direction. She walked up to Liz and hit her then hit her again. She kept hitting her until Liz dropped to the ground and then she kicked her. She kept kicking her until one of the screws pulled her away and restrained her.

They put her in the slot to cool down.


	24. Consequences

Erica didn’t arrive at work on Monday until lunch-time. She and Channing had met that morning with the Department’s senior management to discuss the draft recommendations from the internal review. The findings were better than Erica had been expecting. Senior management intended to accept all the recommendations and asked Erica to draft an action plan to implement them.

Channing was quiet in the meeting, allowing Erica to answer all the operational questions. He did comment towards the end to say he had complete confidence in Erica’s ability to handle things. She had to hide a smile when he said it.

Vera was waiting for her when she arrived at her office. She held up her hand to pause Vera before she started. “I need a coffee,” she said. She remembered she had given her secretary a few days time off in lieu, mainly so she had a pretext for bringing Sarah in as a temp, but it meant she had to make her own coffee. She made Vera follow her to the kitchen.

“You’ll be pleased to hear the internal review findings are pretty tame,” she said as she walked. “I’ll need to talk to you about how best to implement some of the recommendations though. Arrange a time, can you?”

“Yes, all right,” Vera said.

“I need you to organise one of the interview rooms to be set aside for the network this week,” she instructed. “Have they given a list of who they want to interview yet?”

“Um no,” Vera said. “I’ve already arranged the room.”

“Good, what else do I need to know about?” Erica poured coffee into her mug and added milk. She looked at Vera expectantly.

“There’s a prisoner in solitary for fighting you should see, she’s been there since Friday night.” Vera offered.

“All right, I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised, the women have been keeping themselves on a tight leash since the film crew arrived, they were bound to explode eventually.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Vera agreed uncertainly.

“Who is it?” Erica asked as she preceded Vera along the corridor back to her office.

“Franky Doyle,” Vera informed her.

Erica stopped walking and looked at her deputy. “Christ! That is all we need, what happened?”

“She attacked Liz Birdsworth. Beat the hell out of her. Liz has badly bruised ribs and a fractured cheekbone. Doyle had to be physically pulled off her before she’d stop.” Vera was frowning. “I didn’t realise there was such bad blood between them.”

Erica did. She could have murdered Franky at that moment. “Bloody hell,” Erica muttered. “Well, we can’t leave her there, the network will want to interview her this week.”

“There’s something else,” Vera said reluctantly as they entered Erica’s office. She paused uncertainly. “There’s a rumour circulating,” she avoided Erica’s eyes, “that there’s something going on between you and Doyle. Something Liz said seems to have sparked it. It’s ridiculous of course,” she added hastily, “but I thought you should know.”

“Of course it’s ridiculous,” Erica said calmly. She sipped her coffee. “Anything else?”

Vera felt relieved she had dealt with that tricky conversation. She moved on to the outcomes from the daily staff briefing which she’d held that morning in Erica’s absence.

When Vera had left Erica put her head in her hands and swore.

Franky was attempting to do one handed push-ups. They were a lot harder than they looked she discovered. She crashed a hundred times before she managed one. Then she was ecstatic for a moment. She had done squats, sit-ups and lunges until she was doing them in her sleep then she had paced. The challenge of the one handed push-up had distracted her from her thoughts for an entire day – almost.

Her knuckles were red raw from hitting Liz so often. Her hand hurt too, more so when she attempted a push-up, and she wondered if she’d broken it in the frenzied attack. She would be a complete basket case if she ended up with a broken arm and a broken hand. She wondered how she would eat, wash herself, or go to the toilet. She began to laugh but really she just wanted to scream. She moved her fingers tentatively. They still worked despite the swelling. She was pretty sure if she could move her fingers then her hand wasn’t broken.  

Despite having three days to think about it, she still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened when she attacked Liz. She’d been upset about how things had ended with Erica but that didn’t explain why Liz’s needling would cause such a reaction. She had snapped.  

Maybe she should take up yoga, she thought wryly, she wondered if there were yoga classes in prison. She’d never heard of them. She could suggest it to Erica. No, she’d be hopeless at yoga she decided, she couldn’t sit still unless she was reading and even then her leg would jiggle restlessly. Fuck, her mind seemed to be in free fall.

Erica watched Franky on the monitor for a short while before entering. The prisoner was lying on her front on the floor, propped up on her elbow, not moving. She could only see the back of her head. She wondered what she was doing.

The door opened and Franky craned her neck to see who had entered. She had been psyching herself up to do another one handed push-up. She rolled over and sat up.

Erica closed the door behind her and studied Franky for a moment. The prisoner looked back, not eagerly, not expectantly, not hopefully, but without any emotion at all reflected in her eyes. It was disturbing.

“Franky, what the hell were you thinking?” she asked at last.

Franky shrugged. Clearly not thinking, she thought to herself. Erica was wearing a skirt today. From her position on the floor, Franky could admire her legs. Those legs had been hugging her hips last time they’d met, she thought, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I said no reprisals,” Erica reminded her.

“That wasn’t what it was about,” Franky said. She knew that much at least.

“What then? Did you think you were defending my honour, or something?” Franky was silent. “Because Liz was baiting you Franky, and your complete over reaction has just made everyone think there is some truth in Liz’s taunts.” Erica said with frustration.

“No,” Franky answered. “I just wanted to hit something, and her big mouth seemed an ideal candidate.”

“Great!” Erica exclaimed rubbing her brow. “So you still can’t control that temper of yours, is that what you’re telling me?” She took a deep breath. “Franky, your first reaction cannot always be to hit something if you want to make a successful return into society.”

“Maybe it’s just who I am, Erica,” Franky replied with resignation.

Erica raised her eyebrows. “Is that your defence for beating a woman almost senseless?” Her tone was scathing.

Franky sat in stony silence. “Get up,” Erica ordered. She opened the door.

“Where am I going?” the prisoner asked as she struggled to her feet.

“You are going to see the consequences of your actions, Franky.”  

Liz was in the medical unit. One side of her face was so swollen she couldn’t open her eye. She was barely recognisable to Erica and Franky. She was sleeping, knocked out by some serious painkillers, not the Panadol Franky had been offered.

“This is the sort of thing Jacs was capable of, Franky, is that who you want be?” Erica asked.

Franky was silent. She forced herself to look at Liz and her own handiwork. It wasn’t pleasant. She found herself wondering if perhaps another time it might be someone she cared about lying in that hospital bed. It was scary that she could lose control like that even now, after all this time trying to learn to control her anger and tame her responses.

“You’re not on work duty at the moment, are you?” Erica asked, breaking the silence.

Franky shook her head. “Good, you can spend those hours here in the medical unit, reading to Liz. It will help her pass the time and you can make up for some of the suffering you’ve caused.” Erica stated firmly. Franky went pale at the idea. “It’s not negotiable,” Erica informed her when Franky looked about to object. The only consolation she had was that Liz would probably like the idea even less than Franky.

Erica informed Vera where Franky would be during work hours. The deputy informed the rest of the officers.

“She thinks they need to come to some sort of understanding or we are never going to have any peace,” Vera explained. “So she’s giving them the opportunity to do that.”

“More likely they’ll kill each other,” Fletch pointed out.

Franky was reading aloud. Liz was asleep but she read aloud anyway. It was the only way she could keep her thoughts at bay. The nurse had cleaned up her hand and confirmed it wasn’t broken just sprained. She bandaged it. There was a moan from the bed. Franky glanced up but Liz appeared to be still asleep so she continued reading.

Liz muttered something unintelligible. Franky stopped reading and looked at her. Liz’s good eye was open, watching her. She said something again.

Franky leant in. “What?” she asked.

“What are you reading?” she whispered.

Franky turned to the title page, “Law Essentials: Foundations in Australian Law,” she said.

“Well shut up, it’s terrible, are you trying to kill me?” Liz muttered.

“I can’t, I mean I have to read to you, it’s my penance,” Franky explained.

“Bloody hell,” Liz croaked. She looked at Franky. “I don’t see why I should be punished too, so bugger off!”

Franky didn’t move. She opened her book and began to read again. “Shit Franky!” Liz exclaimed. “All right, if you are going to read to me,” she gave in. “It’s going to be something I choose.”

“What then?” Franky asked with a sigh.

“Anne of Green Gables,” Liz said immediately.

“Never heard of it,” Franky responded. “What’s it about?

“A girl with a dysfunctional childhood and a temper,” Liz answered drily, “I think you’ll be able to relate to her.”

“A kid’s book?” Franky raised her eyebrows.

“It’s not a kid’s book, it’s a classic,” Liz was dismissive. “I loved it as a teenager.”

“Where am I supposed to find that?” Franky asked.

“Look in the library or ask your precious Governor to get a copy.” Liz smiled. It was a lop-sided, maniacal looking smile courtesy of her injuries and it gave Franky the creeps.

She got up reluctantly. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered. She wandered off.

Erica was greeted with another problem when she returned to her office. “The network has sent the list of interviewees,” Vera informed her. “They want to interview Liz.”

“Bloody hell,” muttered Erica. She took the list from Vera. Just below Franky’s name was Liz Birdsworth, peer worker.

“We cannot possibly let her go on camera looking like she does,” Vera stated. “She’s not exactly a great advertisement for Wentworth.”

Perhaps she was, thought Erica. There was another reason why she had no intention of letting Liz in front of any cameras though. She couldn’t trust her not to mention what she knew about Meg Jackson’s murder.

Franky returned to the medical unit with an old hard backed book, which had seen better days, tucked under her arm. Liz was asleep. Franky was thankful. She sat down put her leg across her knee and slouched into a comfortable position. She opened the book to page one and began reading aloud. After a time she chuckled. There was a subtle humour in the writing which Franky appreciated.

“Good, isn’t it?” Liz said from her bed. Franky didn’t respond but she did keep reading. After a time her throat began to hurt and she stopped to get a glass of water. “Get me one,” Liz demanded from her bed.

“I’m not your fucking nursemaid,” was Franky’s response.

Liz laughed. “You’re clueless, that’s what you are Franky,” she said.

“Fuck off Liz,” Franky muttered as she poured water into a glass and shoved a straw in it. She handed it to Liz who drank thirstily. Franky sat back down and opened the book again.

Liz watched her. “You’re wandering around in your own little reality where you’re top dog and screwing the Governor but guess what Franky, it’s never going to happen,” she told her.

“What makes you say that, Liz,” Franky asked with a smile, “because from where I’m sitting my odds are looking pretty good.”

“Do you realise what all those women will think when they hear you beat the crap out of me for no reason?” Liz asked grimly. “They’re going to think but Franky Doyle said she’d keep us safe and if she can do that to Liz who’s to say I’m not next, and who do you think they’ll turn to, huh Franky?” She watched Franky process this. “Bea,” she said with satisfaction.

“So what, you took the beating for the team, did you Liz?” Franky looked sceptical. “Is that why you didn’t fight back, not because you’re pathetic but because you think you’re kingmaker?”

Liz shook her head and laughed. “You dug your own grave, Franky, and you don’t even realise you’ve done it.” She studied the younger woman. “I bet Miss Davidson didn’t kiss it all better when she went to see you in the slot either. In fact I’d bet she was pretty pissed off with you.” Franky stared at her. “Tell me I’m wrong, Franky,” she taunted.

Franky looked down at the open book and began reading the next chapter. Liz closed her eye with satisfaction. This was psychological warfare, and Liz knew she had just won the day.


	25. Trouble Ahead

Erica knocked on the door and waited for a response. She received one and went into the office.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked. “I need some advice.”

The prison counsellor smiled and indicated Erica should sit down. “Of course, how can I help?”

“It’s about Franky Doyle,” Erica sat down in the visitor’s chair.

“The bomb survivor?” the counsellor queried.

Erica nodded. “I’m concerned about her, Jennifer. She attacked one of the women, inflicted serious injuries, seemingly without any reason. It’s as though she just lost it,” Erica explained. “I know she has anger management issues and violence tends to be her first reaction to things but this was way over the top. I was wondering if I sent her to you, maybe it would help her.”

Jennifer Stark sighed. “Well, Franky has had a lot to deal with recently. She could be suffering survivor guilt, not to mention having to process the trauma of the explosion, but I couldn’t get through her reserve, Erica, so I’m not sure sending her to me will help. In saying that, she does need to talk about some of these things before she will be able to move on.”

“She has talked about the bomb,” Erica informed her. “She spoke to me about it.”

Jennifer smiled. “Well, that’s good. That will help but these issues are not resolved instantly. Sometimes it takes years before a victim can put these traumas behind them. Franky is also the one they’re making this documentary about I gather?” Erica nodded. “Well, she has a lot going on right now. It is possible she is feeling stressed about that on some level which, added to all the issues she will be dealing with from the explosion, could mean she is suffering from severe anxiety. People react to anxiety in different ways but anger and violence can be a common response. Is there anything else you know of which may be adding to her stress?”

Apart from screwing the Governor, Erica thought, “No,” she replied.

“Look, Franky obviously trusts you enough to open up to you about the explosion. I think you are probably the best person to try and talk to her about what is going on in her head right now.”

Erica frowned. “I’m tutoring her which has meant we spend time together one on one.” She hesitated but Jennifer would hear eventually if she hadn’t already. “There are rumours that our relationship goes beyond that of Governor and prisoner.” The counsellor studied her. “I think spending any more time with Franky will only exacerbate these rumours.” Even as she said it she wondered if she had the self-restraint to remain at a distance.

Jennifer Stark was thoughtful. “Erica, we have a duty of care to these women,” she said at last. “I know you understand that even if some of the officers seem to think their job is to just to keep them in line and submissive.” She looked serious. “You need to do what you can to fulfil that obligation.”

Erica frowned. It wasn’t exactly the advice she’d expected or was hoping for. The counsellor’s reminder about duty of care was a slap in the face. She knew many would consider her relationship with Franky to be a breach of that responsibility. It didn’t matter that Franky was the instigator. In her head she knew she should end it.

Franky was in her cell, lying on her bed staring at the ceiling, thinking. All the women were on work duty or at educational classes. It was quiet in the cell block. She heard the footsteps as they approached. They were heavy. It was one of the male prison officers she guessed. She listened as they passed her cell. She heard him stop. In her head she calculated how many cells he must have passed and realised he had stopped at Bea’s cell. She strained her ears but there were no noticeable sounds coming from the cell. After a while she heard the footsteps return and pass by her cell again. She got up quickly and moved stealthily to the entrance of her cell. She opened the door just enough to peer out. She saw Will Jackson vanish through the entrance of the cell block.

Franky hesitated for a moment then ducked along to Bea’s cell. She looked in but it was empty. She scanned the small area looking for anything odd or out of place. There was nothing. She checked there was no one around then went inside. She thought quickly. Will had spent at least two or three minutes in the cell, so it was possible he either was looking for something or he hid something.

She started looking in all the spots she would hide something in her cell. She found it taped behind the waste pipe on the basin. It looked like an ordinary hairbrush but the brush end slid off to reveal a blade about 10cm long. It had a nasty serrated edge. Shit! She heard a noise. She quickly replaced the weapon in its hiding spot and slipped out of the cell.

She saw Vera looking into her cell. She walked up to her and leant against the door frame. “Doyle, you’re supposed to be in the medical unit,” Vera frowned at her.

“I’m not doing it,” Franky stated. “Liz is driving me crazy. I swear I will kill her if I have to go back there.”

“Well, it’s not up to me, Franky, it was the Governor’s orders,” Vera shrugged absolving herself of any responsibility for the decision.

“Well, maybe you’d better tell her then,” Franky suggested firmly.

“You can tell her yourself,” Vera offered. “She wants to see you.” Vera could barely keep the disapproval out her voice.

Franky was glad. She wanted to see Erica. Even if they were arguing or Erica was annoyed with her over something she’d done, Franky would rather be with Erica than away from her. She hated that there could be days on end where she didn’t see her.

The Governor was working on her laptop when the prisoner was escorted in. She closed it and asked Franky to take a seat.

“How are you Franky?” she asked. She looked concerned.

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to nursemaid that psycho Liz,” Franky said immediately.

“Franky, do you understand what I’m trying to do here?” the Governor asked, “because I need you to work with me.”

“Erica, I have no idea what you are trying to do other than punish me for giving Liz a thrashing,” Franky replied, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Your response was way out of proportion, Franky, do you get that?” Erica persisted.

“Maybe I over-reacted,” Franky acknowledged, “but Erica, Liz is a trouble-maker.”

“Forget Liz,” Erica said dismissively. “This is about you, Franky,” she rubbed her brow. “Do you want to know what I think?” she asked at last.

Franky leant forward. “Why don’t you tell me,” she said curiously.

“I think deep down you feel you haven’t got any control and it scares you. I think everything which has happened recently has magnified that feeling. I think you are more stressed about this documentary than you are letting on. I think what is going on between us is adding to your stress and you are not coping.” Erica said honestly. “And how you reacted to Liz is evidence of that.”

Franky sat back. “Wow,” she said. “That’s what you think?” Erica nodded, a concerned frown creased her forehead. “Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” Erica repeated with confusion.

“Okay,” Franky repeated, “I understand where you’re coming from but I don’t see how forcing me to sit with Liz for hours on end being tortured by her mind games fits in.” Franky said. “I’m sorry Erica, I get that you are trying to help me but,” she raised her eyebrows apologetically, “this isn’t helping.”

Erica sighed. “Okay,” she said. “What would help?”

“You help,” Franky said with a smile that lit up her eyes. “Seeing you, being with you, it helps,” she said simply. “Don’t say it adds to my stress, because it doesn’t, I love being with you, okay?”

Erica couldn’t help smiling. “Okay,” she said softly.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Franky and she’d forgotten what else she had to say to her. The way Franky could look at her with those green eyes full of suggestion and promise could completely distract Erica from her purpose. She would be resolved in her mind to a certain action when it came to Franky and that look disarmed her. She was in too deep she realised. It was already too late. This could well end badly for her career, for her heart but, like a self-destructive alcoholic, she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to.

Franky was watching Erica curiously. She liked it much better when they weren’t fighting, she realised, and she wondered if Erica would be willing to stop talking and kiss her. As soon as she thought it, she wished she hadn’t, she couldn’t get the idea of it out of her head.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as her mind worked through the various complications. She glanced towards the internal window. Erica’s secretary wasn’t there but it was the middle of the day, anyone could knock on Erica’s door seeking an interview.

Erica followed her gaze. “What is it?” she asked.

“I want to kiss you,” Franky said seriously. Erica felt a rush of desire.

Franky suddenly stood up. She didn’t say anything more. Erica watched as Franky went into her private bathroom. At that moment she wanted to follow Franky into that room more than anything. The counsellor’s words echoed in her head. It didn’t stop her. She stood up and walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

She leant against it. Their eyes met for a second before Franky closed the gap. The kiss was slow, exploratory, and sensual. Franky pressed Erica against the door. She didn’t have good use of either hand now so she made contact with Erica by pressing her thighs and breasts against hers.

“Tell me what you want?” Franky murmured and Erica gasped. The words were so similar to those Franky said to her in her dream. This wasn’t a dream though and instead of waking up, she responded.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said impatiently and pulled off her top.

Franky’s lips to travel downwards, leisurely ignoring Erica’s impatience, past her breasts and stomach to pause briefly at her belly button before continuing towards her hips. She manoeuvred Erica up onto the edge of the basin. Her hands pushed up Erica’s skirt and she trailed kisses along her inner thigh until she reached her knickers. She pulled them off and sank onto her knees.

Erica had to bite down on her hand to stop herself from crying out. The thought that someone could walk into her office at any moment looking for her while Franky was going down on her on the other side of the door, made her response even more fervent. She couldn’t think straight, the danger made her come quickly and with mind-blowing intensity. Sex with Franky was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

As Franky was returning to the cell block Will Jackson passed her. She remembered the knife. She wondered if he had been looking for it or leaving it. If it was the latter, Franky was even more concerned. Relationships between screws and prisoners happened all the time. Sexual favours were currency and it was possible Bea was trading them to have weapons brought in.

That evening Franky wandered over to Bea’s cell. She leant against the doorframe and watched Bea for a moment. “I haven’t forgotten what you did for me, Red,” she said. “And I don’t want any trouble, you know that right?”

“You and trouble seem like twin sisters to me, Franky,” Bea replied.

Franky gave a wry smile. “Well, I can see how it might seem like that,” she wandered over to Bea’s basin and picked up her soap. “Liz has been telling me how all the women want you to be top dog.” She tossed the soap from hand to hand. “She’s never said you want it though,” Franky frowned. “Do you?” She asked and at the same time dropped the soap. She crouched down to pick it up and as she did so, she looked for the hairbrush that had been taped to the waste pipe. It wasn’t there. She stood up and put the soap back on the basin.

Bea was watching her. “Are we on the same side here, Franky?” She answered the question with a question of her own.

Franky shrugged. “I guess that will depend on the game you’re playing, Red,” she gave a slow smile.

“I don’t play games,” Bea replied and that worried Franky more than she cared to admit. She wondered where the hell that knife was.


	26. 4.55pm

**4.05pm**

“How does the prison hierarchy work?” the interviewer asked.

“There are the women and there are the screws,” Franky explained simply. “The screws lock us up.”

“The women also have a hierarchy though, don’t they?” the interviewer probed.

“Things work more smoothly when the women have someone to lead them,” Franky acknowledged. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Top dog, is that the expression?” the interviewer asked. Franky nodded. “Who decides who will be top dog?”

“Well, there isn’t an election, if that’s what you’re asking,” Franky smiled. “The strongest, smartest woman that the women respect is usually top dog.”

“And that was Jacs Holt until recently.”

“Jacs was past her prime,” Franky countered. “Her position wasn’t secure.”

“In fact she was killed by another prisoner, is that prisoner now top dog?”

Franky laughed. “Not exactly,” she said quickly.

“Well what was it exactly?”

Franky sighed. “Let’s say the position hasn’t been filled yet.” The interview had been going on for over three hours now. It was draining.

**4.06pm**

Vera and Erica were reviewing the recommendations from the internal review. Vera was unconsciously tapping her pen against the chair as she read. It was beginning to irritate Erica.

“There is a lot more work for the prison officers in these recommendations,” Vera stated suddenly. “Has there been any mention of extra staff?”

Erica shook her head. “We could identify that extra resources are needed as part of the implementation plan. There is money in the budget now thanks to the documentary.”

Vera nodded and continued reading.

**4.07pm**

The code red alarm sounded. Its piercing call filled every corner of the prison.

Franky looked to the window of the interview room. The screw outside took out his radio and talked rapidly into it. As she watched he opened the door and told them to stay put. He vanished down the corridor.

“What’s happening?” the TV interviewer asked with nervous excitement.

Franky shrugged. She stood up and went to the door. She opened it and peered out. The alarm sounded even louder in the corridor. She looked back to the interviewer and cameraman. “Stay here,” she instructed. Then she disappeared down the corridor.

Vera’s radio crackled and a voice came urgently over the airwaves. “Officer down, repeat officer down, urgent assistance required!”

She and Erica stood up and left the office.

**4.10pm**

Franky skidded round the corner into the cell block. It was empty. She stopped and listened but she couldn’t hear anything over the alarm. Where the fuck was everyone? She walked towards her cell and as she did she heard a moan. Lying on the ground in the little kitchen area was a prison officer. He had a stab wound to the stomach but was conscious. His radio was in his hand.

Franky looked for the weapon but couldn’t see it. She turned around quickly intending to leave and ran straight into Bea.

“What the fuck’s going on, Red?” Franky asked. Then she noticed the knife.

“You need to choose which side you’re on,” Bea told her. Franky watched the knife. “Right now,” she insisted and waved the knife dangerously close to Franky.

“Your side,” she said quickly, “I’m on your side, Red.”

Bea shook her head. “Words are cheap, Franky, you’ll need to prove it.” She looked beyond Franky to the prison officer on the ground. “Finish him off,” she ordered.

Franky looked down at the officer. He had lost consciousness. “Why? He’s no threat now. Let’s just use his handcuffs to restrain him.” She suggested as an alternative.

Bea laughed. “No, he’s not the threat, you are, unless I know I can trust you,” she pointed out. “So deal with him.”

Franky looked from Bea to the officer and back again. “Give me the knife then, and I will,” she said at last.

Bea just shook her head slowly. “Not that naïve anymore, Franky.”

Franky frowned. “Okay,” she said slowly. “What then?”

“Get a pillow and finish him off that way,” Bea said coldly. Franky stared at her. It was one thing to attack someone in anger or fear but to cold bloodedly take someone’s life? Franky baulked at the idea. “Come on Franky,” Bea encouraged. “Where’s the tough nut you keep trying to convince everyone you are?”

Franky walked slowly to the nearest cell and picked up a pillow. As she returned, Doreen rushed into the cell block. “Bea, the screws are coming! The women are all in the dining area. We’d better get going.” She saw Franky. “What’s she doing here? She’s supposed to be tied up with the interview.”

Bea ignored the question. “Let’s go,” she instructed.

Franky tossed the pillow and followed the other prisoners to the dining area. She wondered what the hell Bea was up to. This appeared to be organised rather than opportunistic.

**4.25pm**

The prison officers and Erica had gathered in the staff kitchen for a debrief. They had secured as much of the prison as possible and retrieved the injured prison officer from cell block H.

“The women have bunkered down in the dining area. They appear to be armed and have barricaded themselves in. At this stage they have made no demands and no one else seems to be injured.” Erica reported.

“Do we know who’s behind this?” Vera asked the group generally.

“Franky Doyle is my bet,” Will said immediately.

Erica frowned. “That seems unlikely given she has been in an interview with the television network for most of the day.”

“Where is she then?” Will asked. “The TV people said she left them as soon as the alarm sounded.”

“The Department is keen to have police negotiators called in,” Erica informed them, “but I think we will have a better chance of resolving this. The women are currently contained so let’s see if we can’t open a dialogue with them and see what this is about.”

“They have a swipe card and keys from the injured officer,” Fletch pointed out. “That’s not exactly contained.”

“Even so,” Erica smiled briefly, “we need to take the initiative here.” She looked around the room. “Will, I want you to go and see if you can get the women to start talking.”

**4.35pm**

Franky was sitting on one of the tables watching Bea. She still had no idea what this was about and it was becoming clear they had not expected her to be around to be involved in whatever was going down. Boomer and Kat were sitting with her.

“Any clue what is going on?” Franky asked quietly.

Boomer just looked blank and shrugged.

“Doreen said we all had to come here to protest about conditions,” Kat whispered.

Franky frowned. “That doesn’t make sense,” she murmured. “What conditions?”

“Doreen didn’t say,” Kat answered.

“Is Doreen running this show then?” Franky looked surprised.

Kat looked unsure. “Who else would be?”

Franky looked across at the red head. “Bea,” she said.

She stood up and walked across to where Bea was holding court with a group of the women which included Doreen. “What’s the plan, Bea?” she asked.

Bea stopped talking. “All you need to know, Franky, is what I tell you,” she said briefly. One of the women approached. She’d been on look out at the window to the main corridor. “What is it Margie?”

“Will Jackson is outside, he says he wants to talk.”

Bea glanced over to the window and saw Will outside in the corridor.   “Good,” was all she said. She looked at Franky. “I think you should go.”

Franky frowned. “And say what?”

“Ask him what he wants.” Bea instructed her. She looked at Margie. “Let her out.”

**4.40pm**

Franky looked at Will. “Mr Jackson,” she nodded. The prison officer studied her.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

Franky would have loved to know the answer to that question. “What do you want?” she asked instead.

“The Governor wants to talk,” he replied.

“Does she?” Franky smiled. “Is she willing to listen though?”

Will nodded. “She wants to resolve this quickly and quietly, okay?”

“Let me think about it,” was all Franky said. “Wait here.” She knocked and was let back into the dining area where she told Bea the outcome of the discussion.

“All right, go and talk to her,” Bea said once Franky had finished.

“Me?” Franky asked with surprise. “Why aren’t you going?”

“Because I want you to do it,” Bea answered.

Franky looked around at Doreen. The black woman looked surprised. This was clearly not part of the plan she’d been told about. Bea was winging it or there was something bigger on her agenda.

“What am I negotiating for?” she asked at last.

Bea produced a piece of paper and handed it to Franky. “Here’s a list. Make sure they understand we are not going to back down. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Franky quickly read down the list. She shook her head. “They’ll never agree to these.” The demands were ridiculous.

Bea just smiled. “Use those persuasive skills you’re so famous for Franky,” she suggested. “Now get going.”

**4.50pm**

Franky entered the Governor’s office with Will. A brief look of surprise crossed Erica’s face before she schooled her features to show no emotion. “What’s this about?” was all she said.

Franky was uncomfortable, unhappy even, with how this was playing out. She felt she was being completely manipulated by Bea and now she was being forced to take an adversarial role against Erica. There was nothing she could do about it, she realised, if it was prisoners versus screws, then Franky was clear about which side of the fence she stood.

“The women feel –” she stopped. “We want better conditions.”

“What specifically are the women asking for?” Erica asked.

Franky took out the list. “Longer exercise breaks, more visits from family, increased telephone time, better access to medication, time in solitary reduced to no more than a week at a time,” Franky continued reading. The further down the list the more ridiculous the demands. It was as though the women had sat down and drafted a wish list in jest, knowing perfectly well no one would ever agree to it. “And Tim tams provided with the tea and coffee in cell blocks,” she finished with.

Erica was silent. Franky looked up from the list to see Erica’s reaction. She looked disgusted and distant. “Are you serious?” she asked at last.

Franky nodded. She hated seeing that look on Erica’s face being directed at her. She could sense Erica blamed her for this whole situation.

“Who stabbed the officer?” she asked. Franky shrugged. “I know it wasn’t you, Franky, the alarm sounded while you were still with the TV interviewer.” Franky was thankful for that at least. “You give me a name and I’ll see what I can do to get you some of those things you want,” Erica offered.

“I can’t do that,” Franky responded flatly. “We are prepared to wait it out. We have a stash of food in the dining area so don’t bother trying to starve us out.”

“Franky, you are putting in jeopardy your degree and your parole by doing this,” Erica appealed to her on a personal level. “You have a lot to lose,” she pointed out.

Franky knew she was not just referring to her degree or parole either. She would lose Erica’s trust if she continued with this. Something she had fought hard for and didn’t want to lose. She felt sick in the stomach. Her green eyes held Erica’s in a silent plea. This is not me, they were saying, I’m not responsible for this.

“How long before the press get hold of this?” Franky asked instead. “You have a lot to lose too.”

**4.55pm**

And then Erica knew. Her relationship with Franky had compromised her and Franky intended to use it to gain the upper hand in these negotiations. Franky was a master manipulator and Erica had just been another pawn in Franky’s game. It must have been like taking candy from a baby, she realised with a sinking feeling. Her connection with Franky had felt so genuine that even now she couldn’t quite believe it.


	27. Resolution

“Any ideas how we resolve this?” Erica asked wearily. She was seated at her desk with Vera, Will and Fletch in attendance.

"Storm the barricade,” Fletch said immediately. “We can kit up in riot gear and it will be all over in 5 minutes.”

“I’d prefer to try and resolve it peacefully if we can,” Erica said. “Going in hard is our last resort.”

“Unless you can convince them to come out on their own volition, I don’t see how that’s possible.” Will agreed with Fletch. “And that doesn’t seem likely, does it?”

Vera was looking at the list. “This just doesn’t make sense. I mean there has been no hint of the women being unhappy to this extent. Franky’s not stupid either. She would know perfectly well these demands wouldn’t get up.”

“So what are you saying?” Erica asked with a frown.

“I think whatever is going on, these demands are not the end game,” Vera offered.

“Then what is?”

Vera shrugged. “You know Franky better than any of us, what do you think she is up to?”

Vera was right. None of it made sense to Erica either. She needed to get past her feelings about Franky and think objectively. What was it Franky was trying to achieve? Erica suddenly thought of a magician’s trick. It relied on sleight of hand. The audience focussed its attention where the magician directed them while the trick happened elsewhere. The list and negotiations were a ruse, a distraction while something else played out.

“What do prisoners want more than anything?” she asked.

“Their freedom,” Vera said immediately.

Erica nodded. “Exactly,” she said.

“This is a breakout?” Fletch sounded dubious.

Erica was connecting the dots. “The dining area links to the kitchen. There is access to the outside from the kitchen area for the tradesmen to bring in the large material. They park in an alleyway and bring it in via a series of locked gates, which are accessed by swipe cards.” She looked at Fletch. “Didn’t you say the prisoners had a swipe card?”

Fletch nodded. “Shit,” he said.

“That’s why the officer was injured,” Erica was on a roll. “They needed the card.” She stood up. “And it’s why the attack occurred when it did because the tradesmen finish for the day at 4pm.” She picked up the phone. “Fletch, grab some of the other officers and get round to that tradie’s entrance and make sure no one goes out it. Vera, have the rest of the officers kit up, we are going in as soon as I have Channing’s authorisation.”

“If there’s anyone left there,” Fletch muttered to Will as they left the office.

When Franky returned to the dining area she looked for Bea but couldn’t see her. She sought out Doreen instead. “Where’s Bea?” she asked immediately.

“She went to see Liz,” Doreen replied. “What happened with the Governor?”

“Exactly what I thought would happen,” Franky told her. “Bea is dreaming if she thinks this will fly.” Franky was frowning. “What do you mean she went to see Liz? How did she get past the screws?” Franky had just walked past at least six officers camped out in the corridor.

“She went the back way through the kitchen,” Doreen said.

Franky looked towards the boarded up area which housed the kitchen renovations. “You can get into the prison through there?” she asked.

“Yeah, at least Bea said you could, I haven’t been out there,” Doreen told her.

Franky remembered the door she had gone through to rescue Kim. It was in the corridor which led directly to the medical unit, she remembered, and presumably it was still there. The whole corridor had been taped off and put out of bounds after the fire.

“When will she be back?” was all Franky asked. Doreen shrugged. “Well, I need to speak to her when she does get back.” Maybe she could talk Bea down from this crazy venture. Doreen nodded.

Franky went over to Boomer and Kat. “We could be here for a while,” she advised them. “I don’t suppose either of you thought to bring a pack of cards.”

“Nope,” “Sorry,” they said in unison.

Franky sat down. She took off the bandage from her strained hand. She flexed it cautiously. There was no pain. She was relieved. If there was going to be trouble she wanted the use of at least one of her hands. “If they use force to break this up, just sit down and go quietly,” she told Kat, “whatever you do, don’t resist.” Kat nodded with a worried expression. Franky looked at Boomer. “Back to back, Booms, okay?” Boomer nodded.

“What does that mean, back to back?” Kat asked, looking from Franky to Boomer.

“Boomer and I will stand back to back when they come in to protect each other’s back,” Franky explained.

“You’re going to fight them?” Kat sounded incredulous.

Franky looked grim. “The screws will be pumped high on adrenalin and they’ll be armed with riot gear. They won’t miss an opportunity to lay into us and settle old scores.” Kat went pale. “Don’t worry,” Franky reassured her. “They won’t do anything to you unless you resist.”

“What did Erica say?” Kat asked, changing the subject abruptly. “Was she angry with you?”

Franky looked at her. Kat knew she suddenly realised. Kat had put two and two together and come up with four. “Probably,” she responded with a sigh.

“Maybe it will work out okay,” Kat said hopefully. “Have faith,” she added.

Franky laughed cynically. “In what?”

“In Erica,” she said simply. 

Franky closed her eyes briefly. She trusted Erica, was that the same as faith? She didn’t know.

Where was Bea? Why would she have gone to visit Liz now? Nothing about this made any sense. Franky stood up and wandered over to where the kitchen renovations began. She found a point where the boards had been separated and she slipped through. The kitchen was almost complete she realised. She found the doorway to the corridor but it was boarded up. No one could possibly have gone out that way today. She wandered through the rest of the kitchen. Where did Bea go if it wasn’t to the medical unit? She found the other exit and tried the door but it was locked.

She heard the screws break down the barricade and waited quietly. It sounded brutal. Women were screaming in pain and Franky hoped Kat and Boomer were okay. It was over quickly. Still she waited, tucked away out of sight in a corner near the exit, listening. She saw Will Jackson, dressed in riot gear, come through the gap in the boards and come straight to the exit. He tried the door then used his swipe card to open it. She watched him vanish through it. She wondered where it went. The door was slow to swing back and she just managed to catch it before it latched. She followed him cautiously. She rounded a corner and had just enough time to see the baton swing her way before it hit her and she blacked out.

Erica heard the report from Vera after the women were subdued. Fifteen women had to be taken to the medical centre for injuries sustained during the clean-up. Two prisoners were missing – Bea Smith and Franky Doyle.

“Christ! Get on to Fletch and find out if he saw anything at his end,” Erica instructed.

Vera spoke briefly on her radio then shook her head at Erica. “Have you checked all the gates up to the kitchen?” she asked him. She nodded. “Copy that.” She looked at Erica. “No one came out while he was there. He is going up through the gates now.” They waited in silence until Vera’s radio crackled to life again. “Franky Doyle is here, unconscious, no sign of Bea Smith though.”

Once it was confirmed by the medical staff that Franky did not have concussion, she was brought to the Governor’s office. She was sporting a bump on her forehead the size of a cherry tomato.

“Bea Smith has escaped,” Erica began immediately. “Do you know anything about that?”

“No,” Franky answered. She had a splitting headache. She wanted to lie down in a dark room.

Erica raised her eyebrows. “What were you doing in the exit corridor off the kitchen then? Because from where I’m sitting it looks like you were trying to escape.”

Of course it did, thought Franky, could the day get any worse. “I was following someone,” Franky frowned trying to remember. “They must have hit me,” she muttered.

“Was it Bea?” Erica asked quickly.

Franky shrugged. “I’m sorry Erica,” she said. “I can’t remember.”

Erica didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She sounded genuine. “What happened today?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Bea’s top dog,” Franky said. “I lost the game.” She looked at Erica. “Are we okay?” she asked. Have faith, she thought, have faith.

Erica studied Franky. She looked worn out and worried. “You know what I thought when you came in with that list of demands?” she asked. “That I was just part of this game you’re playing and you would use our relationship against me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Franky answered.

“It made me realise something,” Erica continued as though Franky hadn’t interrupted. “I am compromised, Franky, I can’t do my job when I’m around you. I cannot see you as just a prisoner anymore which means I can’t be objective about you.”

“Don’t do this Erica,” Franky pleaded. Her green eyes captured Erica’s and held them.

“Franky, I can’t rely on my judgement when I’m with you.” Erica put her head in her hands. She couldn’t look at Franky and remain firm in her decision.

“Why can’t you trust me?’ Franky asked and Erica could hear the disappointment in her voice. “I know you care about me,” she said.

“Because you are a prisoner and I am the Governor,” she answered Franky’s question. “And we will always be on opposite sides.” She looked up then.

“That’s bullshit, Erica,” Franky leant forward. “We have the same goals.”

Erica shook her head in disbelief. “How exactly do you figure that because I’m pretty sure a stabbing, a protest and an escape weren’t on _my_ to-do list today?”

Franky ignored the sarcasm. “You want a stable prison, right?” Erica nodded. “Well, why do you think I am fighting for top dog? The women will be more settled and happier under me. I want to get my law degree, and you want that for me too, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Erica acknowledged.

“And I want to be with you,” Franky finished with, “and I think you want that too, somewhere deep down anyway.” She looked at Erica and her green eyes were like jade crystals caught in the light. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Erica could feel herself being persuaded. It didn’t help that she wanted to believe Franky. It would be so easy to slip back into the cosy cocoon of Franky’s charm. She was losing herself in those eyes again.

“This might not always be easy, Erica, but is anything easy that’s worth having?” That was it, she was done, her head hurt, her heart hurt and she had nothing else in her armoury she could use to win this battle against Erica’s doubt. She sighed. “Can I go now?”

Erica nodded. She watched as the prisoner walked to the door. Once there Franky stopped and turned back. “You know, I had nothing to do with what happened today. I was a pawn in Bea’s game just like everyone else.” She said and then she was gone.

It took a lot for Franky to admit that Erica guessed. She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. She had convinced herself that her relationship with Franky couldn’t continue. Then Franky came in and threw her conviction into crisis once more. It was Franky who was convincing and Erica realised it was because Franky argued from her heart. She was passionate in her convictions and that was far more powerful than anything Erica’s head could offer. Heart beats head, she thought to herself with a grim smile, paper beats rock.

She picked up the list of demands, which had ended up on the floor, and read it. She frowned. The writing wasn’t familiar. It certainly wasn’t Franky’s writing, which she knew well. Franky hadn’t written the list, Erica realised, she had just read it. It was someone else’s list and someone else’s plan just as Franky had said. She had done it again, assumed the worst of Franky and got it wrong.

Vera arrived to report on the painful process of interviewing all the women to find out if Bea had told them anything of her plans. Erica shifted her attention to her deputy. One thing was becoming clear. Bea must have had inside help to set up the escape. The details of the tradesman’s entrance in the kitchen alone were things she could not have known without help.

It was late before she could get away. She didn’t go home though. Instead she walked to the cell block. The officer on night duty looked surprised to see her. “I wanted to see Bea’s cell if they have finished searching it,” she explained. He nodded and waved her on.

She stopped at Franky’s cell though. She hesitated, knocked quietly, waited then entered. The cell was in darkness. Franky was lying on her bed with her eyes closed. She was still dressed. She was holding her pillow against her chest and stomach as though to protect her.

“Franky?” she whispered. No response. Erica approached the bed and realised Franky was asleep. She watched her. She looked calm. Her hair had fallen over the bump on her head hiding it. Erica didn’t want to disturb her. She stayed watching her for a moment.

She did care about Franky, more than she wanted to acknowledge, even to herself. Something that had started as a physical and intellectual attraction had taken hold of her heart. In a moment of clarity she realised her reaction that afternoon stemmed from feeling vulnerable and scared. She was taking those feelings out on Franky unfairly. She sighed.

She had turned to leave when Franky spoke. “Erica?”

“I thought you were asleep,” she said quietly.

“I was,” Franky replied.  She sat up and blinked then gingerly felt the bump on her head. “I’m done arguing with you, Erica.” Franky felt she couldn’t go another round that day.

Erica shook her head. “I don’t want to argue.”

“What then?”

“I want to say I’m sorry,” Erica said quickly, “for doubting you today. I was wrong." She took a deep breath.  "You deserve better, Franky.”

“We can’t keep doing this, Erica,” Franky said wearily. She was watching Erica intently.

“I know,” Erica admitted. She forced herself to look Franky in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“What are you afraid of?” Franky asked at last.

“I don’t know,” Erica said with honesty. “I wish I did.” Her eyes glistened in the half light and Franky could see Erica’s emotions were very close to the surface. She was forcing Erica into a conversation she probably would prefer to avoid. She resisted the urge to comfort her.

“What do you want?” Franky asked instead. If Erica wanted to end it, Franky wouldn’t fight it, she would walk away. She would respect Erica’s decision. It would break her heart but she would do it. She waited.

Erica sensed this answer would determine their future. It was time to get off the ledge and freefall. It terrified her. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I want to be with you,” she whispered, her voice was full of emotion, and another tear escaped and rolled down her other cheek.

This time Franky didn’t resist. She held Erica to her and didn’t let go. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “It’s going to be okay. I want that too.”  She felt a lightness enter her soul.


	28. Reactions

"Erica?" Franky said softly.

"Mm," Erica responded languidly. They were in Franky’s cell. It was late but Erica, Franky noticed, seemed reluctant to leave. Her visit had been unexpected. Franky knew Erica had been busy since Bea’s escape. She hoped the fallout would not be too damaging for Erica’s career.  

Franky trailed her fingers down between Erica's breasts to her stomach.

"Do you think if we had met in a bar we would have hooked up?"

Erica laughed softly. "No," she said with certainty. Franky's fingers wandered upwards towards Erica's breast. She circled the nipple lightly watching its response.

"Why? Wouldn't you have thought I was hot?" Franky asked with a grin.

"Even if I had thought you were hot as you put it," Erica felt her body respond to Franky's caresses. "I would never have acted on it."

"If I'd seen you in a bar I'd have pursued you," Franky said in response. Erica thought about that.

"Even if I'd been with some guy?" She asked. Franky noted the some guy reference and tucked it away for future consideration.

"Yep," Franky kissed her throat. "I'd have followed you into the bathroom and hit on you." Erica was half focused on Franky's words but her hand had drifted down to her thigh and it was distracting.

"What would you have said to me?" She asked curiously.

Franky trailed kisses down between her breasts. "Nothing at first. I'd have caught your eye in the mirror and smiled at you."

Erica thought that might have been enough for her to succumb. "Then what?" Erica was fascinated.

Franky looked up at her. "I'd have told you how sexy you looked in your dress and how I'd noticed you at the bar." Franky's eyes were full of promise.

"And then?" She watched Franky.

Franky grinned. "That would depend on your response, Miss Davidson," she said firmly.

"Mm, what if I'd done this?" Erica kissed Franky lightly on the lips.

Franky chuckled. "Well I might have done this." She kissed her. It was exploratory, inviting but had a tentativeness about it.

Erica responded without any hesitation. She sat up and straddled the prisoner. Franky's lips went to Erica's breasts. She lingered there and Erica gave herself up to the sensations Franky was creating. Her breath was uneven and she felt desire building in her. Franky pushed her backwards onto the bed.

"Franky," she breathed into her ear. “I think you’re incredibly hot.”

Since they had come to their new understanding, the sex had reached a whole other level. It wasn’t just physical any more. The emotional connection they had forged brought an intensity which neither woman had expected.

The next day Franky was talking to Boomer when a news item on the television caught her attention.

"The Government has called for an independent review of the Wentworth Correctional Centre following the escape earlier this week of prisoner Bea Smith. Smith was being held on remand pending her trials for attempted murder and murder. This continues a turbulent year for the prison which has seen a kitchen fire and bomb explosion where a prisoner died.

“The terms of reference have yet to be set for the review and there is speculation it will have a broader focus than just the escape. Governor of Wentworth, Erica Davidson, made a statement following the Government's announcement."

Erica filled the screen. She looked composed and concerned.

"Of course we welcome the review,” she said. “It is important we ensure our systems and processes are sound. The prison had an internal enquiry following the bomb explosion and those recommendations are currently being implemented. The public's safety and confidence is our prime concern here."

"Is it true Wentworth has entered into an arrangement with a TV network to film a documentary at the prison?" A woman with long blonde hair and industrial strength make-up asked.

“Yes,” Erica replied briefly.

“Surely that increased the risk of a security breach? It doesn’t sound much like you have the public’s safety as your top priority,” the reporter followed up with. Franky felt nervous for Erica.

“The escape had nothing to do with the documentary,” Erica said firmly. She was bombarded by questions from the journalists present. “I have no further comments to make at this time,” she said above the babble, ending the conference quickly.

Franky frowned. She hoped Erica would not regret agreeing to the documentary. She continued to watch the news but her mind was occupied thinking about Bea. If Bea was captured then surely that would improve the situation for Erica. Franky was pretty sure Will Jackson had helped Bea escape. Will’s visit to Bea’s cell and the arrival of the hairbrush knife may not have been connected but Franky doubted it. Added to that was Will’s behaviour in the secure corridor of the kitchen when he had knocked her out as though he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been there. How had Bea even known there was an exit from the kitchen? It hadn’t been there before the fire. It must have been put in temporarily for the workmen. It was suspicious.

She looked across to Doreen. The black woman had been subdued since Bea’s escape. In fact all the women had been quiet. Franky suspected they all felt let down and manipulated by Bea. She wandered across to where Doreen was drinking a tea and sat down across from her.

“You okay?” she asked. Doreen nodded and looked at her tea. “Did you know Bea planned to escape?” she asked her.

“Nope,” Doreen said briefly. “Did you?”

Franky laughed. “I wasn’t in Bea’s confidence,” she paused. “I just wondered if she’d had any help that’s all.” She waited to see if Doreen would take the bait.

“Well, I guess we all helped her, didn’t we,” Doreen pointed out. “We just didn’t realise we were.” Franky heard the bitterness in her voice. “Bea was only interested in herself, not us women at all,” Doreen finished with. Franky was silent. It wouldn’t help her cause to say I told you so. It occurred to Franky though that Bea may have won the top dog position then lost it all on the same day.

“I wasn’t thinking about the women,” she said at last.

Doreen looked at her then with sudden understanding. “You think one of the screws helped her?” she asked incredulously.

Franky shrugged.   “Think about it,” was all she said.

Franky didn’t see Erica the next day to ask her about the independent review and what it might mean. Erica was being interviewed by the network for the documentary. She had delayed it as long as she could by claiming the escape was taking all her attention but the network were keen to keep to their schedule. Finally all the other interviews had been completed and the Governor had no choice but to do it.

Erica could feel her colour heighten. “What?” she asked. The interview had been fairly routine until now with Erica able to discuss Franky’s history and progress since her incarceration objectively.

“Oh come on, I imagine relationships go on all the time between officers and prisoners,” the interviewer said with a smile. “What about that prisoner who just escaped? I bet she had inside help.”

Erica frowned. “I can’t comment on that, it is the subject of an ongoing investigation,” she said with frustration. “Look, can we take a break?” she asked.

The interviewer looked at her watch. “Sure,” she said at last. She nodded to the cameraman.

Erica stood up. She walked back to her office her anger mounting with each step. She told her secretary to get Angela Stone on the phone. She was furious with Angela who she suspected was using whatever she had gleaned from their discussion in the bar to pursue an agenda related only to improving her ratings.

“Erica,” Angela Stone sounded polite, “How can I help?”                                                                                   

“When I spoke to you about this documentary, Angela, I certainly didn’t agree to a smutty exposé into the sexual exploits of women prisoners.” Erica said with annoyance.

“And that’s not what we are doing,” Angela said in a pacifying tone. “But Erica, the relationships Franky has formed in prison is an important part of the story. I’ve watched the footage from Franky’s interviews and it is pretty clear you are a significant influence on her. We need to explore that.”

“By asking me if our relationship has ever gone beyond the boundary of prisoner and governor?” Erica asked in disbelief.

“You’re over-reacting,” Angela said calmly. “It is a reasonable question to ask considering your significant involvement in her rehabilitation and Franky’s obvious,” she hesitated, “respect for you,” she finished with.

“It is not reasonable, Angela,” Erica countered hotly. “And I will veto any final product which has this as a theme. Are we clear?” Silence. “Angela?”

“I understand you have concerns,” Angela said at last. “And I promise you there will be no reason to veto, Erica. It will cost the network a lot of money if we pull the documentary at the last minute so I’m hardly going to do anything which will risk that, am I?”

Erica hoped not. Angela would have seen the news report about the independent review though, and she may be wondering whether Erica was even going to be around to clear the final product. Channing, she suspected, would have no concern in clearing a documentary which painted Erica in a bad light. “Get on to your interviewer and shut down this line of questioning, Angela,” was all she said.

She was about to leave her office when Channing arrived. He had been a stranger since the Sarah incident preferring to communicate via email or internal mail. Erica had welcomed his distance.

“This independent review,” he began with a frown. “I think we need a strategy.”

“Why?” Erica asked. She wondered what Channing had heard through his network.

“Because Erica, we both have a lot to lose here, and it would be foolish to think one of their strategies won’t be to divide and conquer.” He said in a patronising tone.

Erica didn’t trust him. “What are you suggesting then?”

“We need a scapegoat,” he said. “Someone we can throw to the wolves. The trusted insider which no policy or process can mitigate against. An employee gone rogue.”

“Well, it’s looking likely that Bea had inside help,” Erica said. “So that scenario may not be far from the truth.”

“You need to find out who it was then. It needs to be definitive for this to work,” he said firmly. He stood up. “Both our jobs are on the line here, Erica.”

Great, thought Erica, she was somehow supposed to save both their arses. There was just one problem, she had no idea who that rogue prison officer might be.


	29. Intimidation

Erica didn’t know who she could trust. She studied her staff as they discussed Bea’s escape and speculated on just how she had managed it. They were in the morning debrief but the business of the meeting had been completed. One of them, she suspected, knew more than they were telling. Was it Vera? Surely not, the woman could quote the procedures word for word, she didn’t strike Erica as someone who had enough ingenuity to aid a prisoner in an escape. It took balls and, in Erica’s opinion, Vera didn’t have any. Fletch did though. Erica wondered. Maybe, she thought. Her eyes turned to Will. His wife had been killed by a prisoner. Would he really aid and abet one of the women to escape? It seemed unlikely. She sighed. She had to trust someone and her glance turned back to Vera.

Franky was in the exercise yard. There was a basketball game in progress but she was sitting on one of the tables watching Will Jackson. She was wondering what she should do with her suspicions. She could tell Erica, which seemed the logical thing to do, except that Mr Jackson would find out pretty quickly that Franky had talked. She wasn’t keen on finding out what he might do to her in retaliation.

She was absently scratching her arm inside the plaster with a pencil when Doreen approached. “When do you get it off?” she asked, watching the repetitive movement.

Franky looked at her. “What?”

“The plaster,” Doreen nodded at her arm.

“A week, maybe sooner,” Franky was hopeful. She was sick of the handicap and how it restricted her gym sessions. She looked across to where Kat was sitting with Boomer. She couldn’t really complain. A week wasn’t so bad.

“I think I know who helped Bea,” Doreen said quietly. Franky waited. “It was Fletch,” she murmured.

Franky was surprised. “How do you figure that?” she asked.

“The whole plan relied on Bea getting that swipe card, didn’t it?” Doreen sounded excited. “Well, Fletch was the officer partnered with the screw who got stabbed, and he left him. It was how Bea was able to stab him and get the card. She would never have been able to succeed if there had been two officers present.”

Franky considered this and realised Doreen had a point. It was a critical part of the plan. But, it didn’t make sense with what Franky knew. “There could have been a legitimate reason why Fletch left him though,” Franky pointed out. Doreen shrugged.

Franky saw Vera enter the yard. She stood up and wandered over to the deputy. “I need to see the Governor,” she said. Vera continued to scan the yard. “Miss Bennett?” she prompted.

“Miss Davidson is too busy to talk you, Doyle,” Vera said dismissively. She felt the prisoner had stepped well beyond the bounds when it came to the Governor. Those rumours had generated about the pair of them because of the personal attention Erica had been giving Franky.

Franky leaned in. “I have some information for her,” she said quietly. Vera stepped back quickly.

Will approached. “Step back, Doyle,” he said aggressively. Franky stepped back.

Vera frowned. “What information?” she asked.

Franky could see Will watching intently out of the corner of her eye. Shit! “Nothing important,” she muttered and wandered towards the basketball court. She could have kicked herself.

Vera met with the Governor later that day. They went through the details they had regarding the escape. Bea was still at large and the police were focussed on the State-wide search. Erica was determined to identify the prison officer who had helped her.

“Who do you think it was?” Erica asked once all the known facts had been reviewed.

Vera considered the question. “It has to be someone who works on H block regularly because helping a prisoner escape suggests a relationship has developed between the officer and the prisoner.” Erica was impressed with Vera’s logic. “That means it is more likely to be one of my crew,” she concluded.

“Fletch,” Erica said immediately.

Vera frowned. “Fletch? Why do you think it’s Fletch?” She asked immediately.

“Process of elimination,” Erica said. “He is the only one with the balls to do it, except maybe Will and he is hardly going to help a prisoner when one killed his wife.”

“Except maybe the prisoner who killed the prisoner who killed his wife,” Vera pointed out. It was a confusing statement and while Erica was unravelling it, Vera added: “Anyway, it can’t be Fletch,” she said emphatically.

“Why not?” Erica wondered if this was Vera showing her partiality for Fletch.

“He thinks we are too soft on the prisoners as it is. He told me not to feel sorry for them. I just don’t think it is something Fletch would do,” she finished with.

“Except Fletch was also teamed up with the officer who was stabbed and left him alone in the cell block,” Erica pointed out. Vera was silent. “We need to find out whether he did that deliberately.”

Vera nodded. “I’ll find out,” she said as she stood up. “By the way, Franky Doyle says she has information.” Erica looked up expectantly.

“What information?”

Vera frowned. “I don’t know, she wouldn’t tell me,” the deputy went to the door.

“You’d better bring her to see me,” Erica said. She thought about what Vera had said while she waited. Would Will help Bea? Everyone thought Bea had killed Meg Jackson’s murderer. Was that enough motivation for Will to help Bea escape?

Franky thought afterwards that she had deserved what happened. For being stupid, for being reckless, for thinking she was invincible. If she had taken even a second to think through the possible consequences she would never have approached Vera in the yard like that. She would never have gone to the shower blocks on her own. But she didn’t think it through and paid the price.

When the rest of the women had gone to their work duties or an educational class, Franky had gone to the gym. She was back running at her normal pace now and she knocked over 15km before calling it quits. She needed a shower.

Rox was in the shower block cleaning when she arrived. She stopped when Franky entered and leaned on her mop. “Hey Franky,” she greeted her with a friendly smile. “Need something?”

Rox, despite getting caught smuggling, had not shut down her operation. She had gone quiet for a while but eventually started up again using somewhere else to store her goods. She had a flair for hiding stuff right under the noses of the screws.

“Yeah, a shower,” Franky replied with a grin.

Rox nodded. “I just have to finish the floor,” she said and returned to her work.

Franky stripped. She placed a plastic bag over her plaster and pulled on a rubber band to seal it. She turned on the water and stepped under the spray. The prison showers were nothing special. The water was lukewarm rather than hot and the pressure was sadly lacking. Usually there was a queue and women jostling for spots which meant it was difficult to spend any length of time cleaning yourself. So Franky indulged herself knowing there was no one waiting for her spot.

She didn’t notice Rox leave. She didn’t realise anyone had entered the shower block until she was shoved against the tiled wall. Her head was held in a vice like grip, her cheek pressed uncomfortably against the tile. She was pretty sure she would end up with a black eye but at this point that was the least of her problems. She struggled but her good arm was locked behind her back and her broken one was pinned between her front and the wall.

“Don’t struggle or I’ll break your other arm.” He said harshly in her ear.

It was Jackson. She stopped struggling. Fuck, fuck, fuck, her head repeated. She could feel the weight of him against her, pushing her into the wall. She was completely vulnerable. This could end badly.

“If you talk,” he said quickly, “I’ll make your life hell.” Franky was silent. She wasn’t exactly in a position to start bargaining. “I can plant drugs, knives, anything I feel like in your cell. When you’re alone in your cell at night, you’ll be wondering whether I will show up and what I might do to you. And one day you’ll end up dead in the showers. So is it worth it, do you think, because trust me Doyle, no one is going to believe you anyway.”

Then he was gone. Franky sank to the ground, pulled her knees up to her chin and put her head in her arms. She was shaking. The water cascaded over her. She must have stayed like that for a long while. Eventually she got to her feet and dried herself. She dressed slowly and returned to her cell. She was thankful there was no one around. She looked in the mirror and could see her cheekbone had already begun to swell and there was redness around her eye.

She picked up a law book and sat on her bed but didn’t begin reading it. Instead she stared at the wall. Will Jackson had rattled her. She realised just how vulnerable a female prisoner was against male prison officers intent on intimidation or worse. She wasn’t sure how to handle it except to keep her mouth shut. She started when a short time later Vera appeared in her doorway.

“Governor wants to see you,” she said briskly. Franky didn’t move. “Come on Doyle, I’m busy,” she said impatiently. She wanted to catch Fletch before his shift ended. Franky got up slowly. “I thought you’d be jumping over yourself to see her,” she said as Franky passed by her.

As they walked to the Governor’s office they passed Will and Fletch in the corridor. Vera stopped. “Will, can you take Doyle to the Governor? I need to speak to Fletch.” Both men stopped walking and Will nodded briefly.

They walked in silence. Franky ahead and Will close behind her as though to intimidate her. As he opened the door to let Franky in he looked her in the eye and said: “That is quite a shiner you’re going to have Doyle, one of your girlfriends give you that?”

Erica looked up as they entered. She studied the prisoner. It was clear something was wrong. Franky didn’t look at her. She was looking at the floor.

“Sit down, Franky,” Erica said. Will closed the door and remained in the room. Erica frowned. “You can go,” she said to the prison officer.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Gov, she was quite feisty on the way over,” he said. “She might try something.”

“Well feel free to wait outside if you’re concerned,” Erica said calmly. “But I don’t think Franky will try anything, will you?” She asked the prisoner.

“No,” Franky said in a subdued voice.

Will Jackson left the room reluctantly. Franky looked up once he had gone and Erica had a clear view of her face. “Jesus! What happened to you?”

Franky shook her head. “Nothing,” she said briefly. The damage Will had done was more mental than physical.

Erica studied her. The green eyes were wary and Franky’s leg was tapping. Her arms were crossed defensively. Franky would have made a lousy actor. She couldn’t hide her emotions very well so what she felt was written on her face. “Franky,” she said at last. “Will you please tell me what happened?”

“No,” she said immediately, almost harshly then more gently, “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Franky looked distressed. “Okay,” Erica conceded, then after a moment she added, “but Franky, trust works two ways.”

“I know,” Franky said miserably. She rubbed her brow. “I do trust you,” she held Erica’s gaze. “This isn’t about trust though.”

Erica was silent then she stood up and walked around her desk to sit in the other visitor's chair. She put her hand on Franky’s knee to still the constant tapping. Franky looked towards the door where Will was waiting on the other side. He had made it clear what would happen if she talked.

She looked back to Erica. She saw concern in her eyes and patience. It calmed her. What Will didn’t know was that Erica would believe her. She could trust her. But could Erica protect her? Franky wasn’t sure.

There was a knock on the door and Vera entered. “Governor,” she began then paused uncertainly. She watched Erica remove her hand from Franky’s knee as though she had scolded it. “I need to speak to you.” She said tightly. She watched Franky get to her feet and move to the door. Vera stood aside to let her past. Franky didn’t look at her. “Will, take Doyle back to her cell,” she instructed.

Vera closed the door and looked at her Governor. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in a shocked voice.

“Trying to get Franky to talk,” Erica said coolly. “She knows something about this whole business but she seems reluctant to say anything. I think she is being threatened, did you see her eye?”

Erica could have been an actor. Vera looked uncertain. “I don’t think you should get too close to Franky. It is obvious she likes you and you’ll just encourage her by showing her too much sympathy.”

“Christ Vera, do you ever stop and listen to yourself?” Erica said with disgust. She moved behind her desk. “How do you think I get the women to open up to me? By showing them I care about their welfare. You should try it sometime.” It was clear from Vera’s expression that she had no intention of trying it. She had already gotten herself into trouble by engaging with the prisoners. “What did you want to see me about?” Erica changed the subject.

“You might have been right about Fletch,” Vera admitted reluctantly. “His excuse for leaving his partner was flimsy. He said he’d had a call to go to the reception area but no one there remembers making that call.” Erica raised her eyebrows in surprise. Vera continued. “Also, I asked him which officers he took around to the kitchen entrance on the day of Bea’s escape and he admitted he went alone.”

“Against my instructions?” Vera nodded. “Bloody hell! He could have let Bea walk away and no one would be the wiser because –”

“Because the cameras had been disabled,” Vera finished for her.

Erica stood up. “Is Fletch off shift now?” she asked. Vera nodded. “All right, I’m going to speak to Franky again and see if she will tell me what she knows.” Vera just frowned.


	30. Taking Back Control

Fuck it, thought Franky, she was sick of having no control, of being manipulated and coerced into doing things she didn’t want to do. First Bea, now Will Jackson. She could sit quivering in her cell or she could take the offensive.

She asked to be taken to the medical unit on the pretext of her eye but when she got there she told the nurse to remove her plaster. She was taking back control of things and the first step was to get back the use of her arm. If she was going to have to tango with Will Jackson then she wanted to be fully mobile. Of course the medical staff were reluctant at first but eventually Franky’s pleading wore them down. No weights though they insisted. Franky nodded earnestly. No weights she agreed with an engaging smile.

She saw Liz. Maybe it was time to mend a few bridges too. She couldn’t afford to be at odds with the other women if she was taking on one of the screws.

“How are you feeling?” she asked the older woman. Liz looked like she was healing slowly. The swelling was gone and the bruising was now an ugly yellow.

“Bored,” Liz said.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Franky said with sincerity. “I don’t know what was going on in my head. I just saw red." 

Liz shrugged. “Looks like you’ve been in the wars yourself,” was all she said. Franky just raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement and gave a wry smile. “Have they found Bea?” News was hard to come by in the medical centre but Doreen had visited Liz and filled her in on the disastrous protest.

“Nope,” Franky said then added, “looks like a screw helped her.”

“Shit,” Liz said slowly, “any idea who?”

Franky shrugged. She might be prepared to tell Erica her suspicions but that didn’t mean she intended to broadcast them on the prison grapevine.

“Are they letting you back into the cells any time soon?” Franky asked. “The women are feeling unsettled and they’d be happy to see you back. It would gee them up a bit.” Franky was being generous.

Liz responded to the implied praise. “Tomorrow maybe,” she smiled.

“Good,” was all Franky said. She nodded to the older woman and moved off before the nurse could hassle her.

Her next job was track down Rox. She found her outside smoking. Franky bummed a cigarette and leant against the wall. Rox looked at her.

“Ouch! You didn’t look like that earlier.” The blonde said with a grimace. She took a drag of her cigarette. “Let me guess, you’ve decided you need something after all.”

Franky looked around casually. “A weapon, something discreet but effective,” she said quietly.

“How soon?”

“As soon as you can get one,” Franky replied.

Rox smoked thoughtfully. “Tomorrow maybe,” she offered. “Soon enough?”

Franky squinted as the sun came out from behind a cloud. “Have to be,” she answered.

They smoked in silence enjoying the sunshine. Rox tossed her butt onto the ground. “Stay out of trouble ‘til then, huh Franky,” she said in farewell. Franky nodded.

When Franky passed the screws’ office she saw Erica was there talking to Will. Franky’s eyes slid over them without making contact. She saw Erica watch her as she walked by. She wondered what Erica was saying to Will and vice versa.

Franky cleaned her teeth and drank a large glass of water when she returned to her cell. She was washing her forearm to get rid of the residual plaster when Kat entered her cell. It felt good to have her arm back. It felt ridiculously light as though it was full of helium.

“Wow, no more plaster,” Kat said immediately. “Oh but you’ve got a black eye!” She followed on with. Franky looked in the mirror. Sure enough her eye had a dark ring beginning to show. She could see Kat watching her in the mirror. “Are you in trouble?” Kat asked at last.

“Probably,” acknowledged Franky. She continued to study her swollen eye.

“Maybe Erica could help,” Kat suggested. “She seems very capable.”

“Erica again huh?” Franky questioned, catching Kat’s eye in the mirror. “I think you’re a bit of a fan of the Governor.” She grinned. Kat always managed to lighten her mood.

“I’m a fan of romance,” Kat said seriously. “Everyone should have a bit of romance in their life, don’t you think?” Franky wondered if Kat was talking about herself. “And I like the idea of Erica saving you from danger,” she added.

Franky began to laugh. This was turning into a very bizarre conversation. “You’re mad,” she said when she had finally laughed herself out.

Erica arrived in the doorway at that point. She looked from Franky to Kat and back again with a puzzled expression. This was a very different Franky to the one who had left her office earlier.

“Hello Miss Davidson,” Kat said promptly. “We were just talking about you.” Erica gave Franky a questioning look. Franky just shrugged. “I’ll leave you alone now,” she offered considerately. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

Erica raised her eyebrows then stood aside to let Kat pass. She closed the door and leant against it. “What was that about?”

“Don’t ask,” was all Franky said and she sat down on her bed.

“You seemed tense before,” Erica said tentatively. “Are you okay now?” She watched Franky closely, looking for signs of the agitation she saw in her office but Franky seemed her usual self.

“Better,” acknowledged Franky with a quick smile. Erica was relieved. She sat down next to Franky.

“I think I know who helped Bea,” Erica offered. She had decided if Franky felt she couldn’t tell her what she knew then Erica would share her information and see where it led. “It was Fletch.” She saw Franky’s reaction immediately. “You don’t think it was Fletch, do you?”

“Why do _you_ think it was Fletch?” Franky avoided the question by asking one of her own.

“He left the guard on a flimsy excuse and was out at the kitchen corridor entrance on his own. He could have let Bea walk out,” Erica explained.

“Except,” Franky said immediately, “Bea had a swipe card. She didn’t need any help at the exit.”

“But he ensured another officer wasn’t there to stop her,” Erica countered.

“Did he volunteer to go there or did you send him there?” Erica was silent. Of course, she had sent Fletch to the exit. There was no way he could have planned that. “Why did he leave his partner in the cell block?”

“He said he got a call to go to reception on his radio but no one there admits to making that call,” Erica explained.

“But anyone could have made that call,” Franky pointed out. “Anyone with access to a radio that is.”

Erica looked at Franky. “Okay, that was impressive,” she acknowledged with a smile. “But equally, Fletch could have lied about the call, and gone alone to the kitchen gate for another reason entirely, which we’re not aware of yet.”

Franky just shook her head. “Erica, it wasn’t Fletch,” she said with conviction.

“Well Franky,” Erica replied with sigh, “are you going to tell me who it was then?”

Franky took a deep breath. “It was Will.” She looked at Erica to gauge her reaction but Erica’s expression was hard to read.

“How can you be sure?” the Governor asked at last.

“I wasn’t at first,” admitted Franky. “I was suspicious but when he threatened me in the shower block I was sure.” This time Erica’s expression was easy to read. Shock, concern and worry chased each other across her face.

“He did that to you,” she said quietly looking at Franky’s black eye.

Franky nodded. “To keep me quiet, then he reminded me he was the one calling the shots and I was just some criminal who no one would listen to anyway.” Franky’s eyes dropped to her lap. The truth hurt more than a black eye ever could.

“Oh Franky,” Erica said softly. She put her hand against Franky’s cheek and lifted her head so she could see her eyes. They were filled with doubt and uncertainty. She cursed Will Jackson for his words that would cause more damage than his fist. “Well he is under-estimating you if he thinks that,” she said firmly.  

Franky put her hand over Erica’s and pulled it down into her lap where she held it tightly. “I don’t know how I’d survive if you weren’t here,” she confessed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Erica said softly. They both knew though that the independent review could change that in a heartbeat.

“Kat thinks you’re my knight in shining armour.” Franky said to lighten the mood.

“Mm, very traditional,” Erica said with a smile. “She must have read too many fairy tales as a child.”

“She’s a self-confessed romantic,” Franky explained. She pulled Erica towards her. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she murmured as her lips sought Erica’s. She kissed her slowly. She let go of Erica’s hand so she could hold her face as she kissed her. Erica grasped Franky’s top and held on tightly as she lost herself in the kiss.

“I can’t stay,” Erica said regretfully a short time later.

Franky sighed and put her head on Erica’s shoulder. “I know,” she said. She looked up and held Erica’s gaze. “You’ll come back later though?” she asked. Her eyes pleaded with Erica.

“I’ll try,” she said at last. “Tell me why you suspected Will.” Franky told her. “It’s not enough,” she said when the prisoner had finished. “We need something more concrete. I need to think.” She stood up. “Franky, be careful won’t you. Stay close to the other women. Don’t give Will a chance to isolate you.” She frowned.

“I will, don’t worry, Erica, I won’t do anything reckless,” Franky promised.

Erica was worried. Franky was reckless by nature. She smiled though and said nothing more.

Franky followed Erica out of her cell and sat with the other women in the communal area. Their banter washed over her though. She was thinking. Erica had said it wasn’t enough. Her suspicions along with Will’s threats wouldn’t put him in the frame. Franky thought about what she knew. At the moment that knowledge put her at risk but what if every woman on cell block H knew what she knew. Secrets were only useful, or a threat, while they remained secrets. Once the secret was out, she thought, Will couldn’t take out the entire cell block, and rumours had a habit of taking on a tangible life of their own. She had thought earlier she couldn’t tell Liz what she knew because she couldn’t afford to have it on the prison grapevine but what if that was exactly what she did.

She considered it from all angles. If other women knew Will had taken her down in the exit corridor it would be pretty difficult to harm her without suspicion immediately turning on him. Plus the women had a tendency to protect their own. It was possible Will could find himself at the wrong end of a sharp implement. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. It was taking the offensive. It was taking back control.

“Boomer,” she said suddenly, “listen up.” It didn’t take long to spread the word in H block and from there it trickled into the other cell blocks until all the prisoners were talking about was Will Jackson’s attack on Franky and how he helped Bea.

When Will came into the cell block that evening at lock up Boomer had him lined up in her sights. The rest of the women just watched as he took first evasive action then more aggressive action in an attempt to restrain her.

“What are you going do Mr Jackson,” someone called out. “Take her out like you took Franky out? Only this time you’ll have witnesses and we won’t make it so easy for you. How does six against one sound to you?”

“Yeah fuck off Jackson, we ain’t doing anything you say any more,” another called out.

Will looked at Franky then. She was leaning against the doorframe of her cell, arms crossed, watching. She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips at him. “Oops Mr Jackson, looks like your little secret is out.” As he retreated beyond the bars and locked them in, Franky smiled at him.

It had worked even better than she’d hoped for and now Jackson knew he couldn’t intimidate her.

 


	31. Cat and Mouse

Erica had called the police and given them her information on Will Jackson. They confirmed what she already knew, which was it wasn’t enough to arrest him. It was enough to put him under surveillance though just in case Bea attempted to contact him or vice versa.

She arrived at the morning debrief with a plan to protect Franky as much as was in her power to do so. She took note of the officers present as she sat down.

“Where’s Will?” she asked immediately.

“He’s just running late, he sent me a text, car trouble I think,” Vera said as she sat down.

Erica thought nothing of it. “I want to make a few changes to the roster,” she informed the team.

“More likely he’s afraid to come in,” Linda muttered to Fletch over the Governor’s words. He gave her a questioning look. “Haven’t you heard? He almost had a riot on his hands in H block last night,” she said quietly.

Not quietly enough though. Erica looked across at the pair. “What was that about Will?”

“Nothing Governor, just the women playing up on H block last night by all accounts,” Linda said playing down the incident. She didn’t want to get Will into any trouble.

Erica looked at her deputy. “Do you know anything about this?” Vera shook her head. “Was Franky Doyle involved?” She asked Linda.

“There were a number involved but Sue Jenkins was the main offender,” Linda explained. “Apparently she went for Will.” She sipped her coffee.

Erica frowned, wondering what had sparked it, and whether it was connected in some way. “Is Sue Jenkins in the slot?” She asked.

“If she attacked Will she should be in the slot,” Fletch said immediately.

“Um,” Vera referred to her notes. “There’s nothing here to say she is.”

“Okay, I want to speak to her,” Erica informed Vera. “Have her brought to my office.” She moved on. “Now the roster,” she explained her changes.

“You can’t take Will out of the cell blocks and put him permanently on front reception,” complained Fletch. “He is one of our more experienced officers and the women respect him.”

Erica wasn’t in the mood for Fletch that morning. “Well, it doesn’t sound much like he has the respect of the women on H block,” she retorted.

“So the women are calling the shots now, are they?” Fletch muttered to Linda.

Erica heard him. “I’m calling the shots, Fletch, and I’d appreciate it if you’d remember that.”

He didn’t like that she could tell but Erica was tired of his snide comments and argumentative ways. Vera looked on with concern. No one queried anything after that and the meeting finished quickly.

Franky saw Rox in the corridor. The tall blonde gave her a quick, barely discernible nod.

“I’ll catch you up,” she told Kat and Boomer.

Kat frowned. “Didn’t Erica tell you not to be caught on your own?” She reminded her in a whisper.

Franky had been more forthcoming with Kat about what had happened. She liked being able to talk about Erica to Kat. The Governor had been nervous when she realised another prisoner knew about her relationship with Franky. She was convinced Kat would use it against her in some way but Franky had been quick to reassure her. Kat wouldn’t betray her confidence.

“I won’t be on my own,” Franky pointed out with a quick smile. “I’ll be with Rox.” She disappeared along the corridor.

Erica came out of the meeting with Vera. Her deputy’s radio crackled and she pulled it out. She was needed at reception. Erica waved her on. “Don’t worry, I’ll find Sue myself,” she told her. It would give her an opportunity to see Franky and find out whether she had survived the night without any drama.

The cell block was empty however so Erica went into the yard but there was no sign of Franky or Sue. It was either the gym or the library she decided. The library was closer.

“Boomer, spot for Kat,” Franky instructed as she picked up the lightest free weights and began to do bicep curls.

“I don’t see why I can’t just watch you to work out,” Kat said standing awkwardly near the bench while Boomer placed a couple of weights on each end of a bar. She indicated Kat should lie with her back on the bench.

Before Franky had been side-tracked they had been on their way to the gym. As Franky was delivering on her promise to Erica she insisted Boomer and Kat accompany her. Despite the medical warnings, Franky was testing her limb with light weights. Her logic was if she had broken her leg she would be walking on it, which was weight-bearing, so she figured doing weights with her arm wouldn’t do any harm.

“Because,” Franky pointed out, “you are weak and you cannot rely on Boomer always being around.”

She watched as Boomer guided the bar into Kat’s hands, showing her where to put her hands and telling her to push the bar away from her. Nothing happened. Boomer looked across at Franky with a frown.

“Take the weights off, Booms, maybe she can lift the bar,” Franky suggested with a roll of her eyes.

“I saw that,” Kat said. She sat up. “You told me to use my head,” she reminded Franky.

“Come here,” Franky ordered. She put down her weights. Kat went and stood in front of her. “What are you going to do if I threatened you like this.” Franky grabbed Kat and spun her easily so her arm was pinned behind her and Franky had an arm across her throat.

“I’d make you laugh,” Kat said immediately.

“What?” Franky asked in surprise.

“I can make you laugh pretty easily,” continued Kat, “and I think it would be hard to attack someone when you’re laughing.”

Franky let Kat go. She didn’t really have a response to that. She’d never tried to attack someone when she was laughing and she couldn’t imagine doing it. “Okay but what if it was Boomer?” she asked instead.

“Easy,” said Kat, “I’d say puppies in jelly and she’d stop immediately. It’s a bit like Pavlov’s dog.”

Franky frowned. “Like what?” She asked at the same time Boomer exclaimed she wasn’t a dog.

“Pavlov’s dog, you know, the dog that starts salivating as soon as he hears the bell– ” she was interrupted.

“Okay but forget us,” Franky said impatiently. “What about those thugs who attacked you in the bathroom?”

“Well, not even you had a hope against those three on your own, Franky,” Kat pointed out.

Franky didn’t have an answer to that either. She rubbed her brow. Maybe Kat’s strength was an ability to wear down her opponent with tireless, irritating conversation. She picked up her weights again. Boomer had taken over doing chest presses on the bench. Kat studied the stretching diagrams up on the wall.

The door to the gym opened. All three prisoners looked to see who would enter. When Linda appeared they all resumed what they were doing. The prison officer cleared her throat.

“Jenkins, come with me,” she said briskly.

Boomer looked up from the bench. Franky stopped doing bicep curls. Kat turned away from the stretching diagrams. “Why?” Franky asked.

“Because I said so, Doyle,” Linda responded firmly.

Boomer looked to Franky with a bemused expression. Franky shrugged. “You better go, Booms.”

“Where’s she going?” Kat asked when she and Franky were alone.

“Dunno,” Franky said briefly. She was concentrating on her weights session.

“Are you worried Boomer will be released soon and I won’t have her to protect me?” Kat asked with sudden insight. Franky frowned but was silent. “Is that where she’s going, to find out about being released?”

“Maybe,” acknowledged Franky, “even with that time in the slot she must be close.”

“Gosh,” said Kat in wonder. “Imagine being free.”

An image suddenly came into Franky’s head. She was in a bed with crisp white sheets and a doona. The sun was streaming in the large window. She was watching Erica sleep. The sun’s rays caught the blonde highlights in her hair. She looked beautiful. Two years suddenly seemed a long time to wait.

The door to the gym opened again. It wasn’t Boomer back though. It was Will Jackson who entered. Franky put down the weights and looked warily at the prison officer. Kat looked from Franky to Will. The prison officer smiled at her.

“I need to speak to Doyle alone,” he said to her.

Kat looked back to Franky who was frowning. “No,” she said. Will’s smile faded. Her stared at her and Kat swallowed nervously. “You’re going to hurt her.”

Will laughed. “I’ll hurt you if you don’t move it.” There was no humour in his tone though, it was deadly serious.

Kat didn’t move except to pick up a dumbbell. She held it tightly in her fist.

Franky spoke then. “Fuck off Jackson, you can’t take out both of us,” she pointed out.

“Can’t I?” Will smiled again. It wasn’t a friendly smile. He took a step forward.

“Should we stand back to back,” Kat whispered to Franky, who looked at her blankly. “You know to protect each other’s back,” Kat reminded her.

Shit, thought Franky, the kid had guts. She shook her head slowly. “Split up,” she murmured.

Franky was pretty sure Will would ignore Kat and concentrate on her. Kat did not look like a threat. If he came for her, she had a little surprise for him. She could feel the comforting, rigid steel against the small of her back.

Before either of them could move though, the door opened behind Will. This time Erica entered.

“Wow, gym’s popular this morning,” Franky said lightly. Erica took in the scene. Franky was all bluff and bravado but it was clear Kat was relieved to see her. Will’s expression was hard to read.

“What’s going on here?” she asked Will.

“Nothing Gov,” Will replied easily.

“You should be on front reception today,” Erica informed him. She waited for him to leave before speaking again. “Everything all right?” she asked.

Franky felt herself relax. “It is now,” she said with a smile.

Kat mumbled something about the toilet and slipped out. Erica watched her leave. “I know you like Kat but she won’t be much help if you’re cornered.” Erica was worried by what she had interrupted.

Franky frowned. “Don’t under estimate Kat,” she told Erica. “She’s got courage.” She picked up her long sleeved top and pulled it over her head.

Erica sensed Franky was annoyed by her comment. She changed the subject.  “No trouble last night?”

Franky shrugged. “I waited for you,” was all she said.

Erica closed the gap between them. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit,” she put her hands on Franky’s hips. “I went to speak to the police about Will.” Franky looked hopeful until Erica shook her head. “As I suspected, it wasn’t enough.” She studied Franky closely. The black mark around her eye had grown. It looked like badly applied mascara which had smudged. “I haven’t given up yet,” she said and Franky nodded.

“I wish I could fall asleep in your arms and wake up beside you,” Franky said suddenly. Her eyes were dark and brooding. The pressure of the past few days was beginning to tell.

Erica smiled at her. “One day, I promise,” she pulled Franky closer. When she slipped her hands under Franky’s top she cut her finger on the sharp blade. “Shit!” she exclaimed. She pulled her hand out and frowned when she saw the blood.

“Fuck Erica, are you all right?” Franky exclaimed. She watched Erica put her finger into her mouth.

“Franky, what the hell is that?” Erica asked as she took a look at the damage. The cut was just a nick. The prisoner looked sheepish. “Are you carrying a knife?” she asked in disbelief.

“I need to be able to protect myself,” was all Franky said.

“Christ Franky, and what happens if Will disarms you?” Erica’s fear made her angry. “You’ll end up at the wrong end of that knife and then what?” Franky was silent. “Well?”

“That won’t happen,” she said coolly.

“You don’t know that,” Erica said with a shake of her head. “Give me the knife,” she said firmly. Franky looked defiant. “Please Franky, give me the knife.” She put out her hand.

There were hurried footsteps in the corridor and the gym door opened. It was Vera. She looked at her Governor. “We just got a call. Bea Smith is in custody!” She said breathlessly.


	32. Ghosts Who Talk

Bea wasn’t talking. When asked how she knew about the exit corridor from the kitchen she claimed she overheard some officers talking about it. When asked where she got the street clothes from, she claimed she had them smuggled in. When asked where she got the knife she claimed she found it in the shower block one day. It was frustrating. She was put in solitary.

Erica wanted to see Franky. The interruption to their conversation by Vera had been poorly timed. The Governor had faced a dilemma. She wanted to get that knife from Franky but she didn’t want to mention it in front of Vera. She had frowned at Franky who had shrugged and given her a smile which said clearly she thought the interruption was perfectly timed.

It was raining. Rain which continued for days could cause some of the women to go a little stir crazy. For now though the women gathered in the communal area of the cell block instead of the exercise yard.

“The kitchen is going to be back in operation by the end of this week,” Doreen informed the others.

“What about the laundry?” someone asked. Doreen shook her head. The women hated the temporary arrangements for the laundry. The dryers operating in the small cells made the rooms incredibly hot and folding clothes and sheets in those cells was torture.

Franky stood up and headed to her cell. She decided to do some study since basketball was out. Even though it had become common knowledge Kim had set the bomb the women still blamed her for the laundry situation. Mainly, she suspected, because she was still around to blame whereas Kim was not. She collected her law books and headed for the library. With Will on front reception she was less concerned about being caught in an awkward situation with him. Besides, the library usually had other women in attendance and she was still carrying her knife.

When she got there though she noticed Kat was already at one of the tables. She sat at the table next to her. Kat was so engrossed in her book she didn’t notice Franky arrive.

“What are you reading?” Franky asked with curiosity as she dumped her books on the table and sat down.

Kat looked up. It took her a moment to register Franky had asked her a question. “It’s a book on the occult,” she said. “Have you ever attended a séance?”

“No,” Franky said dismissively. She opened her law book at the page she had flagged.

“Me neither,” Kat replied with obvious disappointment. “Do you think we could have one here in prison?” She asked suddenly.

“Why would you want to?” Franky asked with a frown. She was only half listening.

“I don’t know, might be interesting, I imagine there would be a few spirits floating around this place,” Kat continued to talk but Franky zoned her out.

When she looked up an hour later there was no sign of Kat. Her book was still out on the table though and as Franky stood up to stretch she peered at the open page. There was a drawing of a Ouija board and instructions on running a séance. She rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife. Once you were dead you were dead was Franky’s view.

She saw Erica enter the library and scan the room. Their eyes met and a small smile appeared on the Governor’s face. Franky smiled in response. They both stood there for a moment just smiling at each other. As Franky watched another prisoner came into the room and greeted Erica as she passed her. Erica broke eye contact to acknowledge the woman.

The Governor came across the room and stood across the table from Franky. “Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Franky responded. Her tone and eyes managed to tell a story of delight and desire with that simple greeting.

“Have you got a minute?” Erica asked. Franky nodded. She had all the time in the world for Erica.

“Liz is coming out of medical today,” she stated. Franky nodded. “I don’t want any trouble, Franky,” she said firmly.

“No trouble,” agreed the prisoner with a smile and a quick wink that left Erica unsure whether she was being serious or not.

“And I want that knife,” she said in a determined voice.

Franky had known it was coming from the moment she saw Erica enter the library. “Oh the knife, you know, they can be dangerous in the wrong hands Erica.” She said with seriousness.

“My point exactly,” Erica responded immediately.  

“Mm,” Franky studied Erica. She looked very determined and serious, far too serious for Franky’s liking.

“I don’t want this to be a problem between us Franky,” the Governor continued in a quiet voice. She looked around. The library was unusually busy due to the weather. “Come with me,” she said suddenly.

She led Franky out of the library and along the corridor until she reached a storeroom. She used her swipe card to open the door and ushered Franky in. The room had floor to ceiling shelves which contained a raft of paraphernalia. The lighting worked on motion senses.

“Wow,” Franky said immediately. “This is private,” she gave Erica a suggestive smile.

“The knife,” was all Erica said. She put out her hand. Franky could see Erica was on a mission and nothing would dissuade her from it. “We’re not leaving here until you give it to me.”

“Fine by me,” Franky closed the gap between them. She put her hands around Erica’s waist and pulled her close. Franky was on another mission entirely. She kissed the Governor. Erica responded putting her hands on Franky’s hips. Franky was surprised she capitulated so quickly but didn’t dwell on it. Erica’s lips had moved to her throat and she lost the capacity to think straight. Erica’s hands moved from Franky’s hips down to hug her arse pulling her against her. She slipped her hands up Franky’s back and before the prisoner realised her intent, she had ripped the duct tape which was holding the knife in place and taken possession of the weapon. She stepped away quickly and smiled triumphantly.

Franky shook her head. She was disgusted with herself for being so easily conned.

“Franky, you don’t need the knife,” Erica said in a conciliatory tone. “Will Jackson is rostered on front reception and he’ll stay there until we resolve this.”

“Has Bea said anything?” was all Franky asked. Erica shook her head. She turned to leave.

“Seems a shame to waste the opportunity,” she heard Franky say as she reached the door.

Franky was close behind Erica. Her hands rested against the door either side of her so Erica was caught. Her lips kissed her exposed neck. Footsteps passed by outside and she heard Erica draw in her breath. She put her mouth to Erica’s ear. “Does this turn you on Erica?” she whispered. “Knowing you could be seconds away from exposure.” Franky’s voice was low and erotic. Erica could feel herself getting hot just listening to that hypnotic voice.

Franky was pressing against her. Her hands moved from the door and she put them on Erica’s hips. Franky’s hands slid up and cupped her breasts. “We could fuck right here,” she suggested. She felt Erica’s nipples respond to her touch and her words.

Erica pressed back against the prisoner then took Franky's hand and pressed it between her legs. “So impatient,” Franky teased. She cupped her and Erica gasped as she rubbed her thumb quickly over her clit. She unbuttoned Erica’s pants and slipped her hand to explore her hot, wet, highly sensitised sex. “Mm, so ready, Erica, I think you like stealing unexpected moments,” she murmured. Erica couldn’t wait a moment longer and she shuddered against Franky’s fingers. Franky felt a heavy throb begin in her own loins as she felt Erica’s recede.

When Franky returned to the cell block later she was in a good mood. She no longer had her knife but was feeling well satisfied after her encounter with Erica. She noticed immediately she had interrupted something. All the women stopped talking when she walked in and were looking in her direction. She also saw Liz was back. She approached the table and raised her eyebrows.

“Good to see you back, Liz,” she said continuing her intention to repair her relationship with Liz. She studied the group. Her eyes settled on Kat who looked flushed and excited. “What’s up?” she asked.

“We are going to have a séance,” she announced. “After lock-up, when we won’t be disturbed.”

Franky looked around the table. The women all looked committed. “Don’t you need a Ouija board for that?”

Kat nodded. “I found a piece of melamine in the kitchen renovation waste and I have a permanent marker from the art room supplies. I’m going to make one in my cell.” She explained.

Franky just shrugged. “Enjoy yourselves,” she said and she headed into her cell.

Five minutes later Kat stood in her doorway. “Aren’t you going to come to the séance?” she asked.

Franky looked up from her book. “No,” she said simply.

“Why not?” Kat asked with disappointment.

“Because it’s rubbish,” Franky said. She watched Kat. The younger girl did not react as she expected though.

“You shouldn’t be scared,” Kat said quietly.

Franky laughed. “I’m not afraid of it,” she assured her. “I just don’t believe in ghosts.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Franky, than are dreamed of in our philosophy,” Kat misquoted.

“Right,” Franky said dismissively. She had no idea what Kat was on about.

“Prove to me you’re not scared,” Kat challenged her.

Franky sighed. She felt she owed Kat something. Kat had stood by her in the gym even though it was likely she would end up worse for it. More than that, she had stood up to Will, and she could still end up regretting that decision. It had meant a lot to Franky.

“Okay, if it means that much to you, I’ll come,” she agreed at last. “Can I read my book now?”

“All right,” Kat agreed happily and disappeared.

After lock-up Kat, Boomer, Liz, Doreen and Franky gathered in Kat’s cell. They had all changed into their pyjamas except Franky who didn’t wear any. Kat had them sit in a circle and in the centre she put the Ouija board. They chatted aimlessly until the lights went out. Boomer produced a torch so they could see the board. It cast strange shadows across the walls.

“What now?” Doreen asked in an exaggerated whisper.

“Now the ghost from Christmas past appears,” Franky said with a grin. She had just finished reading _A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens.

Kat ignored her. “Everyone put a finger on the glass and make sure your knee is touching the knee of the person next to you. I will invite any spirits present to speak and ask the questions. It is better if only one person speaks,” she explained. “Don’t exert any pressure on the glass and when it moves be careful not to take your finger off the glass.”

The prisoners sat cross-legged and tightened the circle so all their knees were in contact. Each one put a finger on the up turned glass which sat in the centre of the Ouija board. Franky was sitting opposite Liz. She caught Liz’s eye and wondered what the older woman thought about all this.

Into the silence Kat spoke. “Are there any spirits here with us?” she asked. They all waited expectantly except for Franky. Nothing happened. Kat repeated the question. Again they waited then Doreen giggled. Kat hushed her. For a third time she repeated the question. This time the glass shifted slightly. Franky looked around quickly looking for a sign from whoever was moving the glass. Everyone’s eyes were focussed intently on the glass.

“Do you want to say something?” Kat asked in a whisper. The glass moved slowly towards the yes.

“Are you connected to someone in this room?” The glass remained where it was.

“Can you tell us who you wish to speak to?” The glass moved towards the letter L.

Everyone looked at Liz who swallowed nervously. “Who is it?” she asked Kat.

“Can you spell your name?” The glass moved slowly to the C then E then back to L then returned to the E but before it could finish, Liz said the name aloud. “Celeste, it’s Celeste.”

Celeste was Liz's mother-in-law who Liz had killed accidently. It was the reason she was in Wentworth.

“What do you want to say to Liz, Celeste?” Kat asked. The glass moved deliberately around the board.

The women repeated the letters. “I – F – O – R – G – I – V – E – Y – O – U”

Franky studied Liz. The older woman looked shocked. “Shit,” she heard Doreen mutter. Franky didn’t think Kat was pushing the glass now or Liz so it must be Doreen or Boomer. She watched them closely.

“Celeste, are you still there?” Kat asked. Nothing happened. “Are there any other spirits with us?” They waited. Franky shifted restlessly. Kat frowned at her. Suddenly the glass shifted violently.

“Can you tell us your name?” Kat asked. The glass flew across the board and halted at the letter M. Kat spelt the name aloud. “M – E – G.”

“What the fuck?” Franky pulled her hand away from the glass as though she had burnt it. She looked at Liz.

“Franky, put your finger back,” Kat said quickly.

Franky stood up. “Not funny Liz,” she said.

Liz just shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”

But it must have been Liz, Franky thought with a frown, because she was the only one who knew.


	33. The Setup

“Are you okay?” Kat asked. She was standing in the doorway of Franky’s cell.

Franky didn’t respond.  She was lying on her bed thinking.  She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“You’re annoyed with me,” Kat said in a resigned voice.  Silence.  Kat didn’t take the hint. “I shouldn’t have listened to Liz, should I?” she said after a while.

This made Franky sit up.  “Why? What did Liz say?” She asked quickly.

“Well it was her idea, the séance I mean,” Kat explained.

Franky frowned. “I thought it was your idea?” Kat shook her head.  “You were reading that book in the library and carrying on about having a séance.”

“Well, yes, I was talking about it but just as a bit of a joke.  Then Liz was all keen to have one and convinced everyone what a great idea it was.”  Franky was watching Kat and she could see a light bulb had just gone on in Kat’s head.

“What else?” She asked with resignation.

Kat stared at Franky. “She told me to get you to come, she said you’d be reluctant but there was someone you’d want to hear from on the other side.” Kat realised her mistake. “She planned it.” Franky just raised her eyebrows. “I stuffed up,” Kat acknowledged with a sigh.

“Yep,” Franky said bluntly. “She set you up.”

“No, she used me to set you up.” Kat corrected her. 

Franky didn’t respond.  Kat was right.  It wasn’t about her.

“The sneaky bitch!” Kat said suddenly.

Franky couldn’t help laughing.  She had never heard Kat say anything offensive since she had arrived, not even about the thugs who damaged her leg. “Don’t go making an enemy of Liz,” she advised.

“We’re not friends so what else is left?” Kat asked seriously.

Franky raised her eyebrows at this. “Well, kid, there is a whole spectrum in between those two,” she pointed out. 

Kat wasn’t interested in a philosophical discussion though. “Let’s take her down,” she said suddenly.

Franky smiled at the image that came to mind. Kat was about half the size of Liz. “Pint-sized but fiery, huh? Look this isn’t your problem, it’s mine,” Franky said firmly, “and I’ll deal with it, okay?”

“Well, I don’t understand why it is your problem? I mean who is Meg?” Kat asked with a frown.

“Beat it kid,” was all Franky said in response, “I’m tired.”

“Who is Meg?” Kat asked Boomer at breakfast the next morning.

“Previous governor,” Boomer said, as she ate vegemite toast with a fried egg on top of it. “She was murdered,” she added as she swallowed.

“Who by?” Kat asked intrigued.

“Jacs,” Boomer said briefly. She didn’t like talking at breakfast.

“The prisoner Bea killed?” Kat clarified. Boomer nodded. “Why would Franky react like that?”

“Ask Franky,” Boomer responded. Kat didn’t bother explaining to Boomer that Franky had been less than forthcoming

“Where is Franky?” Kat continued on her mission to drag information out of her friend.

“Dunno,” she replied unhelpfully.

Kat gave up and ate her breakfast in silence.

Franky was in her cell thinking about Liz. The woman clearly had no intention of taking Franky's olive branch. The display last night had shown that. She was bloody devious, Franky acknowledged, she rigged the whole thing and planted the Celeste visitation to put Franky off the scent. She wasn't entirely sure what Liz had intended. Maybe it was just an opportunity to mess with her head or maybe she had intended to let out Franky's secret. Either way Liz was becoming a problem.

She wanted to shoot hoops but it was still raining. She decided to run instead.

Erica arrived at work early. She had decided to talk to Bea again. Channing had been on at her about finding the rogue prison officer. As she walked through security though she saw Will and it gave her an idea. She dropped her bag in her office and went down to the video surveillance room. The officer on duty greeted her with a smile.

“I have a question,” she began. The officer nodded encouragingly. “The video stream from the cells in solitary, it doesn’t have any audio correct?”

The officer smiled. “That’s right, there’s not much need for it. The women are on their own and don’t really say much.”

Erica frowned. “I thought so. It’s a pity though.” She turned to leave.

The officer wanted to be helpful. “I mean, the cameras are equipped with an audio function but we haven’t activated it.”

Erica turned back and looked at the officer thoughtfully. “Are you able to activate the audio function from here or do you have to go to the cell?” she asked.

“From here, it’s pretty simple,” he went on to explain the technical detail. “Which cell did you want audio from?” he asked at last.

Erica hesitated. She didn’t know which of the officers were friends with Will. “All of them,” she said at last. “Is that possible?”

“Sure, give me half an hour,” the officer said with a smile. She thanked him.

She saw Vera as she was returning to her office. “Morning, have you seen Bea Smith today?”

Vera shook her head. “Are you going to speak to her?”

“No,” Erica said slowly. “I have another idea. Can you ask Will to come and see me in my office next time you’re in reception? No rush,” she added and Vera nodded.

Kat was folding sheets in one of the temporary laundry cells with Liz and Doreen. The older women were chatting idly. Kat was lost in her own thoughts. She felt bad about the séance. She felt she had let Franky down. Of all the women she had met in prison she liked Franky and Boomer best. Boomer had befriended her when she had first arrived. Probably, Kat had realised since, because she had been feeling at a loss without Franky. Whatever the reason, it had made that first week a little easier. Boomer had talked a lot about Franky during that time and Kat had gotten to know her even before she met her. According to Boomer, Franky was strong, smart, courageous, loyal and funny and the only choice for top dog and not to blame for the explosion in the laundry regardless of the rumours circulating. Funnily enough, despite Boomer’s obvious bias, Kat recognised all those traits in Franky when she had finally met her. She had realised quickly though that Franky’s character was much more complex than Boomer’s simplified view. Last night had added another layer of complexity. Franky was somehow connected to the murdered governor and Liz fitted into the picture in some way too. It was a puzzle and Kat liked solving puzzles.

Doreen left the cell for a toilet break. Kat decided to take the opportunity to speak to Liz while they were alone. “Do you know why Franky reacted the way she did last night?” she asked the older woman.

Liz looked at her. “What’s it to you?” she asked.

“Just curious,” Kat said lightly. She knew Franky would warn her off engaging Liz in a conversation on the subject.

“Don’t you know, curiosity killed the Kat,” Liz said seriously then laughed. Kat didn’t laugh. There didn’t seem to be anything to laugh about.

“Why don’t you like Franky?” Kat asked suddenly.

“It’s not about like or dislike, Franky can’t be trusted,” Liz said. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“Well I do trust her,” Kat said firmly, boldly, but as she said it she wondered if Franky would have advised her to keep quiet.

Will arrived in Erica’s office just before afternoon tea. She smiled at him. “I know you are probably feeling annoyed with me for shifting you on to front reception,” she acknowledged.

Will shrugged. “It’s not permanent, is it?” he queried. “I mean Vera said it was just a rotation to keep everyone’s skills fresh in the various roles.”

Nice one Vera, she thought. “Absolutely,” Erica agreed immediately. “However,” she continued on, “I need you to do something.” Will waited expectantly. “I think Bea Smith had help when she escaped but I can’t get her to talk. I was wondering if you would try,” Erica suggested.

“Well, why would she talk to me if she wouldn’t talk to you?” Will looked wary.  

“You have developed a rapport with Bea,” Erica explained. “I think she might open up to you. It is worth a try anyway, don’t you think?” Will shrugged. “Just go down to solitary and see what happens,” the Governor suggested.

When Will had left, she had her secretary track down Vera and ask her to come to her office.

Franky had been in her cell collecting her law books and was going to the library when she saw Will turn into the corridor ahead of her. She stopped dead in her tracks. She looked for somewhere to go to avoid him. There was a storeroom just ahead of her. She tried the door but it was locked. If he turned around she would be caught – without a knife and without her people. She waited. So much for Erica’s assurances that she would keep Will out of the cell blocks. What did that matter if he was wandering the corridors? One of her law books was slipping, she could feel it, she tried to grab it but her arm was still weak and gravity won. It clattered on the ground. Will stopped and turned around. When he saw who it was he changed direction and began walking towards her.

Franky knew it wasn’t brave but sometimes it was smarter just to run. She turned on her heel and sprinted down the corridor. She wasn’t heading for the cell block, she knew it would be empty and there’d be no protection for her there. She headed instead towards the medical centre via a series of twists and turns, and scary dead ends which forced her back the way she had come, each time fearing she would meet Will. She was operating on adrenalin. When she reached the medical centre she leant against the wall in relief. Fuck, she thought.

Erica and Vera were watching the video stream from Bea Smith’s cell. The Governor hit the record button. Will arrived but the conversation followed standard protocols. Erica was getting frustrated. Bea wasn’t even talking to Will. As ideas went this one was turning into a dud. Will left the cell. She glanced at Vera who was frowning at the screen. “Well, that’s that,” the Governor said and stood up. She had a tutoring session with Franky.

“It was worth a try,” acknowledged her deputy. “Maybe we are wrong about Will.” Erica knew they weren’t wrong though.

Franky was in the library waiting for Erica. This tutoring session was well overdue in Franky’s opinion. She couldn’t blame Erica though. The independent review, Bea’s escape and return, and Will’s behaviour were all putting pressure on Erica’s time. Some days Franky still wished Erica wasn’t Governor. She opened her book and began reading but her mind soon drifted to thinking about Liz and how she might resolve that little problem.

When Erica arrived they began work immediately but after an hour Erica sat back and looked at Franky. “Okay, what is it?” she asked. Franky’s green eyes held surprise when she looked up from the textbook. “You’re completely distracted, Franky,” the Governor pointed out. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Franky hesitated. She wasn’t sure she did want to tell Erica. “It’s Liz,” she offered at last.

“Liz again,” Erica sighed. “I said no trouble, Franky,” she reminded her with a frown.

“Forget it then,” Franky sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Erica regretted her words and her tone. “I’m sorry, Franky, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. What about Liz?” she asked encouragingly.

“No seriously, Erica, forget it,” was Franky’s response and she stood up and began packing up her books.

Erica put her hand over Franky’s to stop her. “Sit down Franky, please, I said I’m sorry and I am. It’s been a frustrating day but," she gave a wry smile, "I shouldn’t take it out on you.” 

Franky sat down and looked at Erica. She thought about her own day, it hadn’t been much better and she knew she was feeling edgy. Maybe she had overreacted. “Why was your day frustrating?” she asked Erica.

“Bea still isn’t talking. I even sent Will in and miked up the cell in the hope they would incriminate themselves but it didn’t work.” Erica sighed. “I’m running out of ideas.”

Well that explained why Will had been wandering the corridors, Franky thought. “I’m not surprised it didn’t work,” was all she said though.

“Why?” Erica was intrigued.

“You have two people who conspired together and you put them together expecting them to talk but trust me, both Will and Bea would have thought it was a setup and the other had sold them out to the authorities. It’s what I’d have thought anyway,” Franky finished with.

Erica thought about it. Maybe Franky was right. It had been too obvious. “What would work then?” she couldn’t help asking.

“You need someone in there that Bea won’t be suspicious of but knows enough to talk to her about the escape,” Franky offered as an alternative.

“Like who?” Erica asked with a frown.

“Like me,” suggested Franky.

“I can’t send you into solitary to talk to another prisoner, it’s against procedures,” Erica dismissed the idea.

“The peer worker is allowed in,” Franky pointed out.

“Yes, but you’re not peer worker,” Erica countered.

“Liz is,” was all Franky said.

Suddenly she had a way to cause Liz some serious problems. What if Liz talked to Bea in solitary and Bea opened up to her as a friend and then found out the whole thing had been overheard? Liz would have a hard time explaining to Bea that she hadn’t been in on it from the start. It would cause a rift between them which Franky could exploit.


	34. Kat’s Story

Erica thought about what Franky had said. It could work, she acknowledged. Franky had told her something of the power struggle she had been involved in since Jacs had been killed. It had given the Governor an insight into the politics at play. Erica suspected Franky had been selective in her commentary but one thing was clear – Liz was a strong supporter of Bea. If she were to open up to anyone then it was likely to be Liz.

So the following day Erica asked Liz to be brought to her office. The prisoner still had the scars from Franky's attack.               

"Hello Liz, you're on the mend?" The Governor asked as she entered. Liz nodded. "I hope the women have settled down now you're back in the cell block."              

"I think so," Liz replied. "How's Bea?"              

Erica couldn't have asked for a better segue. "She's in solitary. You know what that's like," was all she said.            

"I'd like to visit her," Liz said. The governor looked at her. "The peer worker can visit the women in solitary or the wet cells," she pointed out.              

Erica nodded. "All right," she agreed.

Franky was doing push-ups in her cell. She was amazed how much conditioning she had lost since she broke her arm. Before the broken arm she would do fifty push-ups before flagging but now she struggled to do twenty in a set. She stood up and drank a glass of water.

“I know who Meg is!”

Franky looked round to see Kat was in her doorway. She turned back to the basin and refilled her glass.

“And I know the connection between you two,” she continued. Franky began drinking. “You slept with her,” she revealed in a knowing voice.

Franky’s mouthful of water sprayed across the mirror. “What?” she spluttered.

“Liz found out about it and now she is holding it over you,” Kat was on a roll. “I’m not sure how Jacs fits in yet –”

Franky interrupted her. “Whoa! Wait! You have just grabbed hold of something and run wild with it, kid,” she shook her head. “That brain of yours is dangerous.” She caught Kat’s eye and held her gaze. “I did not have sex with Meg Jackson, okay?”

Kat looked at her. “Oh,” was all she said. She wandered out. Franky shook her head again and began wiping down her mirror.

When Liz was ushered into Bea's cell, Erica and Vera were again watching on the Governor's laptop.        

Bea was sitting on the bed. "Bea, what were you thinking?" Liz asked immediately.              

The red head looked at her with a blank expression. "I was thinking I wanted to see my daughter's grave," she said with bitterness.

Liz sighed. "But to break out, Bea, it was a fool's mission."            

"They wouldn't let me go to the funeral and it ate away at me," she said dully.           

Liz couldn't help pointing out the obvious. "You stabbed an officer, Bea, you're in for a whole lot of grief from the screws." 

"Do you think I care about that?" Bea asked angrily. "Do you think they can do anything to me that will hurt more than losing Debbie?"

Liz sat on the bed. "I think you might find they can," she said with a sigh. "It's not just the physical threats, it's the mental abuse. They will wear you down, Bea, day by day like some cruel torture." Bea was silent. "And you didn't just stab an officer then you went and showed them up by escaping. You're smarter than they are and they won't like that.” Bea just laughed. Liz looked at her thoughtfully. "He won't protect you," she said at last.               

"Who?"               

"Whoever helped you to escape." Bea was silent. "He is one of them, Bea, and he will turn on you as quick as look at you once he decides there is nothing in it for him."              

"Will's not like the others," Bea said firmly.           

"Oh shit Bea, yes he is," Liz shook her head. "Don't trust him," she warned.              

Erica looked at Vera. "We've got him," she said with a smile.            

Her secretary entered at that moment and put a package on the Governor’s desk. Erica picked it up and glanced at the sender’s address. “It’s the documentary,” she said to Vera.

Franky was studying in her cell when she heard Liz return to the cell block. The peer worker was talking to Doreen. Franky came out to the communal area and saw Liz was making a cup of tea. She looked concerned. “How was Bea?” Franky asked, interrupting the conversation.

Liz eyed her warily. “As good as could be expected,” she responded.

“She tell you how she managed to escape?” Franky asked bluntly. Liz just looked at her “She did, didn’t she?” Franky laughed. “Pity she didn’t have a better plan not to get caught again.”

Franky went back to her cell feeling her plan was playing out just as she’d hoped it would.

It wasn’t until much later in the day that Franky was summoned to the Governor’s office. Erica’s usually guarded expression was replaced with a relaxed smile. Her face confirmed what Franky had already suspected.

“It worked then,” Franky asked once Vera had left them.

Erica nodded. “Bea named Will. He has been suspended pending an enquiry but it is very unlikely he will be reinstated. He may even face prosecution.” Franky felt relieved. She may not have shown it but Will lurking in the prison and Franky never knowing when he might strike had given her sleepless nights. “Your idea worked,” Erica acknowledged with a smile, “so thank you.”

Franky just raised her eyebrows and gave a quick smile but secretly she was pleased with the recognition. It made her feel like she and Erica were equals.

"The documentary has arrived for final approval," Erica told Franky. "I think you should watch it and make sure you are happy for it to go to air."                            

Franky just shrugged. "You'll watch it right?" She asked. Erica nodded. "Well then, I don't need to see it."                               

Erica insisted though. "You did this for me, Franky, well for my programs," she corrected herself. "I want you to be comfortable with the end product."                              

"I did it for you Erica," Franky clarified, "and I trust you."                             

"I know you do but I'd like for us to watch it together," Erica attempted to explain herself. "When you offered to do this without any hope of getting anything from it except possibly a whole lot of grief, well it meant a lot to me. It still does," she finished with.      

Franky could have told her she wasn't that self-sacrificing and she had got more from the gesture than Erica could possibly understand but she didn't. Franky just smiled her slow smile and Erica felt the warmth of it. "Okay," she agreed. "Do we get popcorn then?" 

Kat was drinking tea in the communal area of the cell block. She was pondering the Meg puzzle. She did have a tendency to obsess over problems. It had been pointed out to her in the past. She would lock on to something and wouldn’t let it go. She knew she was doing it now but she couldn’t stop herself. She thought about Franky’s reaction to her theory. It was clear she was on the wrong track there. Maybe she hadn't thought it through properly, she acknowledged, and had gone off half cocked. Liz was the key she decided, Liz and Franky. She needed more information but Franky had been summoned to the Governor’s office and wasn’t talking anyway. Boomer was less than helpful and Liz was more interested in playing mind games.

Kat wandered into Doreen’s cell. “Have Liz and Franky always been at war?” She asked Doreen. Kat liked to get straight to the point.

“Oh no, just since the whole thing with Bea and Jacs,” Doreen told her.

Finally, thought Kat, someone willing to talk. “What was that then?” 

“Well Franky egged Bea on after Jacs had Bea’s daughter O.D. Franky practically put the pen in Bea’s hand and helped her drive it into Jacs.”

“You're speaking metaphorically,” Kat clarified. Doreen looked blank. Kat rephrased. “I mean Franky psyched Bea into it.”

Doreen’s face cleared. “Yeah,” she replied.

“Why?”

“Franky wanted Jacs out of the way I suppose, but of course she didn't have to do that because Jacs was in the frame for Meg Jackson's murder already.”

“How come?” Kat felt she was getting somewhere.

“Well Meg's bracelet was found in Jac’s cell,” Doreen said as Liz appeared in the doorway.

“What’s up?” Liz asked looking from Kat to Doreen.

Kat moved to the door and she heard Doreen say, “Nothing we were just chatting,” before she left.

She thought about what Doreen had told her. Jacs was in the frame already for Meg's murder. In the frame, she thought about those words, in the frame. Weren’t people put in the frame?   What if someone planted the bracelet and put Jacs in the frame, someone like Franky who had wanted Jacs out of the way. How would Franky have got the bracelet though?

Kat sat up straight. There was one way. If Franky had killed Meg then she would have the bracelet, Kat suddenly realised. Kat thought about Franky. Was she capable of murder? But Kat knew better than most that anyone was capable of murder given the right set of circumstances.

“What did you think?” Erica looked sideways at Franky. It had been surreal sitting on the two seater couch in her office watching the DVD on her laptop with Franky. They could have been just hanging out together watching a movie. Franky had fidgeted through most of it but Erica had been fascinated by it. Some of the interviews with Franky where she opened up about the difficulties of prison were mesmerising to watch.

Franky rolled her eyes. “Boomer out performed me with that fight in the exercise yard where she took out those three thugs to protect Kat,” was all she said.

“Maybe,” acknowledged Erica with a smile. Franky threw a cushion at Erica in response. “But you look sexier on screen,” she said hastily as she fended away the missile.

Franky looked at her. “You thought I looked sexy, huh?” she asked with a smile full of invitation. Erica nodded. She knew that look. “Even in this?” She pulled at her prison uniform.

“Uh-huh,” Erica replied. She leant in and kissed Franky. “You’re very sexy,” she murmured.

Later Erica rang Angela Stone. "I just wanted to say I take it all back," the Governor said sincerely.                              

"What exactly is it you're taking back?" The producer asked.                              

"All those uncharitable thoughts I had about you during this whole process," Erica admitted with a smile in her voice.                

“You've watched the documentary," Angela said with sudden understanding.                            

"I have," admitted Erica, "and it's good," she acknowledged. "Better than good, you have managed to reveal Franky's strength and her vulnerability with humour and sensitivity. I loved it," she said with sincerity. "I feel I owe you a drink to apologise and also to celebrate, if you're willing."                             

Erica heard that attractive laugh. "With pleasure," she said. "Has Franky seen it?"                              

"She has, she told me to tell you she hoped you would get her a guest spot on the breakfast show because she could do with a day out," Erica said with a smile.                              

"She liked it then?"                            

"You know Franky, always flippant but yes, I think she liked it," Erica smiled as she remembered the prisoner's reaction.

Franky was in her cell when Kat appeared. She was feeling pretty good about things. The Will problem was solved. The Liz problem was on the way to being solved, or so she hoped. She and Erica were in a place of mutual understanding and respect. She was feeling a little more in control today than she had yesterday. She smiled lazily at the younger girl.

Kat took the smile to be an invitation to enter. She propped on the end of Franky’s bed. “I’ve never told you why I’m in here, have I?”

Franky shook her head. She had wondered of course but it was best to let the women tell their stories in their own time. Kat had seemed like a regular girl with a stable family and a future, but even those girls could fall off the rails, Franky acknowledged. It’s the demons on the inside that will bring you down regardless of how well it looks on the outside.

She should have known Kat's story was not going to be conventional though.

“This year I was accepted at uni into applied mathematics. My gran was very excited because her father, my great grandfather, was a mathematician. Unfortunately, according to gran, my great grandfather never reached his full potential due to a tendency to drink early and with enthusiasm.” Franky raised her eyebrows at this. “My gran had high hopes for me though because I don't like alcohol.”

“I joined an amateur dramatic club because I wanted to make some friends and I have a passion for Shakespeare. They weren't doing Shakespeare though that semester, they were doing a theatrical version of The Simpsons. They picked me to play Lisa.” Franky couldn't help smiling. It seemed pretty appropriate casting.

“The uni student playing Krusty the Clown seemed nice enough at first. We went out a few times but he seemed obsessed with the fact I only had one leg. He had a stump fetish.” Franky laughed out loud at the disgust in Kat's voice.

“I tried to cool it with him but he constantly sent me text messages or would ring me in the middle of the night. It began to freak me out. It got to the point where I was going to pull out of the play but we were at the dress rehearsal point and it would have been too late to replace me.

“On opening night everyone was going out to celebrate but I had been slower than the rest to leave because my costume had some technical hitches and the girl who was wardrobe assistant had promised to fix it after the show. When I was leaving, Krusty cornered me backstage. He was still in his costume. He startled me and I told him straight up that I wasn't interested and I thought he was creepy. He looked particularly creepy in his clown outfit I should add. He didn't seem to take on board anything I’d said to him and the next thing I know he was forcing himself on me.” Kat paused. Franky wasn't sure if it was for dramatic effect or Kat was distressed by the memory.

“What happened?” She asked curiously.

“I stabbed him in the armpit with a knife we had on set as a prop for the kitchen scene. It severed a major artery. I was arrested the next day when the cleaners found his body. I was charged and convicted of murder.” Kat said it without any emotion. “It turns out he'd told all the cast I was obsessed with him and wouldn't leave him alone but he thought I was just a one legged freak. No one believed my story that the clown was stalking me.   I had killed Krusty and that killed the show. They weren't very happy.” Kat said in a resigned voice. “Poor gran will never see a great mathematician in the family. One was an alcoholic and the other is a killer.”

Franky thought about Meg Jackson. “Just because you kill someone that doesn’t necessarily make you a killer,” she said.

Kat just looked at her. “Yes, Franky, it does,” she said at last, quietly and with certainty.

Franky stared at Kat. The story about Kat killing the clown was Kat’s way of telling her that she knew. She knew about Meg.

 


	35. Game Over

Franky’s secret was starting to leak like a sieve. First Liz then Erica and now Kat and there was nothing Franky could do about it.

So she turned her attention to Bea. The red head returned to the cell block a week later. Franky watched but could see no awkwardness between Bea and Liz. They were as thick as ever. It was frustrating.  

Franky had the women. She was wielding more power now than ever. Even after Jacs was gone there was still the threat of Bea but not now. Bea had been selfish and played loose with the women’s loyalty. They were still suffering from withdrawn privileges as a result of the protest. For that they blamed Bea.

Bea still had one ally though. Liz had not been caught up in the protest. She had not diverted her support from Bea to Franky. Despite Franky’s careful manipulation of circumstances, like a cockroach, the Liz-Bea friendship had survived. And Franky couldn’t understand why.

“Where are you going?” Kat asked as Franky stood up.

Kat and Franky had not spoken of Meg’s murder again. By unspoken mutual consent they accepted the knowledge was shared between them and left it at that. At least Franky assumed that is what happened. Kat never actually mentioned Meg again to Franky. It was as though knowing was enough for Kat and she didn’t need details or explanations.

“Gym,” Franky replied. She needed to think.

Usually she had the gym to herself but today when she walked in she saw Bea was on one of the treadmill machines. Franky paused. Bea looked across at her and nodded. Franky moved deliberately to the machine next to her and set the speed at 10km/hour. It was a pace she could run at and still talk. She noticed Bea was running much more slowly.

“Hiding in here, are you?” Franky asked as she began running. Bea ignored her. “You had those women in the palm of your hand,” Franky continued. “You think they’ll forgive and forget, do you?”

“No,” Bea said.

“Think you don’t need us, huh, is that it?” Silence. “Now you have a screw in your pocket,” Franky finished with. She saw a slight reaction from Bea out of the corner of her eye. “How did that happen then?” Franky didn’t expect Bea to answer, she was just needling. “Sex was it?”

“No,” Bea said dismissively. “He could understand what I was going through because he’d been through it himself.”

“Ah,” Franky nodded knowingly. Then to show Bea she knew exactly which screw she was talking about she went on with, “haven’t seen Will about for a while.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bea asked after a moment.

"It means I haven't seen him," Franky replied. "Why is that do you think?"

Bea was thinking, Franky could tell, and she was pretty sure she knew what Bea was thinking. Where was Franky going with this because random comments weren't her style.

"Dunno," she said at last.

“You know what I reckon? I think you sold him out," Franky suggested.

"Why would I do that?" Bea gasped. The running and talking wasn't really working for her it seemed.

"Maybe you didn't mean to, maybe you were set up," suggested Franky, planting the seed. "Maybe your confidence was betrayed. Did anyone else know Will helped you?" Bea was silent. Franky focused on her workout. She had done what she could to make Bea question Liz's loyalty.

In the exercise yard later Franky watched as Bea approached Miss Bennett. She wasn't close enough to overhear the conversation but she would have put money on the fact Bea was asking after Will.

Franky saw Erica enter the walkway. She hadn’t seen the Governor all week, not since they had watched that stupid documentary, and it was too long. She met Erica at the fence.

“Miss Davidson,” Franky smiled appreciatively. “It’s been awhile since we’ve seen you.”

Erica nodded. She looked sideways and saw Vera watching them. “Everything okay, Franky,” she asked.

Franky looked disappointed. “Well, I could use another tutoring session,” she offered. She leaned into the fence and dropped her voice. “Later today maybe, in your office, just the two of us,” she suggested with a smile.

Erica frowned. Franky knew the Governor hated it when she made suggestive comments in public. “We’ll see,” was all she said. She moved on. Franky watched her disappear into the main building.

“Still panting after the Governor, Franky?” Liz appeared next to her.

“Still sticking your nose into other people’s business, Liz,” was Franky’s rejoinder. “You should know that doesn’t end well for you.”

Liz laughed. “You’re so easy to read, Franky,” she said as she walked away.

Franky watched her. Bloody Liz! She noticed an inmate she hadn’t seen before. It must be the new intake from J Block. She studied the woman. She was attractive with blonde hair and a well-cared for figure. Franky couldn’t tell much more from where she was standing. It was probably a good idea to introduce herself and let her know how things worked.

Franky walked up to where the woman was sitting on one of the benches, legs crossed, inspecting her nails. She was older than Franky had expected but well-preserved. Good looking in that desperate housewives sort of way, Franky acknowledged.

“I’m Franky,” she introduced herself. “I run things around here.”

The woman looked up briefly and inspected Franky. “Really, I thought the screws did,” she said, a little patronisingly.

Franky laughed. “Sure, but I run the women, got it?” she said pointedly.

“Got it,” she said briefly, returning her attention to her nails.

Franky wasn’t sure she did get it. “I can make your life pretty difficult in here or pretty easy, it’s your choice.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Look, I’m not going to be in here for long, so just pretend you never saw me,” she suggested.

Franky stared at her. “Why? Think you’re going to win your appeal or something?” she asked with a superior smile. She’d heard that countless times before.

“Oh no I’m guilty, but my plans don’t include spending five years in this place.”   Franky hadn’t been expecting that.

“What’s your name?” she asked curiously.

“Kerri Flanagan."

"As in Brian Flanagan?" She asked with raised eyebrows. Franky had heard of the Flanagans. Brian Flanagan had made the news a few years previously in connection with a multi-million dollar fraud case. The case never made it to court though and rumour had it Flanagan was very well connected and the DPP had been leant on to not pursue it. The family was loaded but most of it obtained through dubious means.

"He's my husband," Kerri acknowledged the connection.

Franky whistled. "You are slumming it!" It explained why the woman looked so well groomed. She probably spent her days at beauty salons and the gym.

“If you want to help,” Kerri suggested, “perhaps you could supply me a little pick me up.”

Franky shook her head in disbelief. She wasn’t dealing anymore, not since she almost lost Erica over the whole Meg thing but that wasn’t the point. She couldn’t believe the woman’s audacity, or perhaps she could, it was typical of someone with enough money to get whatever she wanted in life. “I’m not your personal assistant,” she said deliberately. “Find your own drugs.” Franky would enjoy showing Kerri Flanagan that life in prison was very different to what she might have been used to on the outside.

“Doyle, Governor wants to see you,” Vera appeared at Franky’s side.

That was quick, thought Franky with a smile. Clearly Erica had been missing her as much as Franky had been missing Erica. She glanced at Kerri Flanagan. The older woman had turned her attention back to her nails.

Erica was talking to her secretary when Franky arrived. She indicated Franky should wait in her office. Franky sat in one of the visitor’s chairs. She stretched her legs and crossed her ankles and lounged. She picked up the newspaper which was on the desk and began reading. When Erica entered a few minutes later she frowned.

“Franky,” she began, but the prisoner was engrossed in an article. Erica took the paper from Franky’s hands and put it aside. She propped against the desk. Franky grinned at her. “I wish you wouldn’t be so careless when others are around,” she said with a frown.

Careless! Franky didn’t like the word. Reckless she accepted as a character trait but Franky did not think she was careless. She frowned. “Nobody could overhear, Erica, I made certain of that.”

“Franky,” Erica said with frustration, “what about the next time or the one after? You are taking risks.”

“You’re talking as though I don’t know what’s at risk, Erica.” Franky frowned. She sat up straighter. “Do you think I would jeopardise us?” She held Erica’s gaze. “Do you?”

“Well, you seem to be having a good crack at it,” Erica muttered as she looked towards the window.

“Okay, what do you want then Erica?” Franky looked at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t even approach you in public?”

Erica sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered. “I want you to treat me as the Governor, is that too much to ask?”

Careless and ridiculous! “Fine,” said Franky. She stood up. “I’ll do that, anything else?”

Erica shook her head. She could tell Franky was annoyed with her. She watched the prisoner leave. That conversation could have gone better, she acknowledged, but Franky was getting careless and if she didn’t contain her now it would only get worse. She sighed and sat down at her desk.

Franky was sulking in the communal lounge with a cup of tea. Careless, the word repeated in her mind. It was unfair of Erica. She watched Liz walk in and go to the kitchen area to make a tea. She should be studying but she didn’t feel like it. What was the point?

Bea entered the cell block with purpose. Franky watched her curiously. The red head walked deliberately up to Liz and stopped in front of her.

“Tea, Bea?” Liz smiled at the rhyme. She grabbed another cup.

“Why did you do it?” Bea asked with a rasp in her voice. “You said we were friends, so why would you do that?”

Franky continued to watch. “Do what?” Liz asked with genuine confusion.

“Sell me out, Liz, that’s what,” Bea was choking on emotion. “You told them about Will and now he’s gone.”

“What are you talking about, Bea?” Liz asked with a frown. “I haven’t sold you out,” she said calmly, reassuringly. “What gave you that idea?”

“Will’s gone, I told you it was him, and now he’s gone,” Bea said furiously. “Don’t lie to me, Liz,” she warned.

Liz laughed. “I’m not, Bea,” she said. It was a mistake. Bea saw it as trivialising what had happened. She turned around and walked off to her cell. “Bea!” Liz called out after her but Bea was gone. She shook her head and glanced at Franky who was watching fascinated.

“Looks like you screwed up, Liz,” Franky said seriously.

Liz just looked at her. “What the hell?” she muttered.

“Crap day all round,” Franky said as she sipped her tea.

The next day Franky was in the exercise yard. She was sitting on one of the benches. She had just finished a strenuous basketball game. She was watching Kerri Flanagan. The blonde kept looking at the sky. Franky couldn’t understand why. She looked up but couldn’t see anything except a blue cloudless sky. She squinted. It was going to be a scorcher.

She saw Erica enter the walkway. Franky watched her but stayed sitting on the bench. Erica was wearing a skirt today so Franky could admire her legs. Her hair was up and those wispy strands framed her face. Her short sleeved top hugged her figure. She looked fantastic to Franky, fantastic but distant. To her surprise Erica entered the yard and made a beeline for her.

Franky stood up. “Miss Davidson,” the prisoner acknowledged the Governor.

“Franky,” Erica nodded. It felt awkward so she moved on quickly. “Your first set of exams has been scheduled for next week. I’m going to book some extra tutorial sessions in with you so we can structure your revision.” Franky had been expecting to hear soon when her exams would be. She nodded. “You are well prepared already, Franky, so don’t stress about them.”

“I won’t,” Franky said. She was watching Erica, looking to take her cue from her, and she saw something in the Governor’s eyes. She hated fighting with Erica. “I won’t let you down, Miss Davidson,” Franky said quietly, deliberately.

“I know, Franky,” Erica said with a smile. Franky took the smile with relief and returned it. “I have to speak to Kerri Flanagan, is she about?” The Governor asked.

Franky nodded in the direction of the centre of the yard. Erica walked towards the new inmate. As Franky watched she heard something but couldn’t place the sound. It got louder and she realised it was a helicopter. It was a strange sound to hear. The prison wasn’t under a flight path.

When Franky remembered later what happened next it always occurred in slow motion. She scanned the sky and saw a helicopter appear flying low in the sky. As it passed over the walls of the prison, a ladder dropped from the cabin doors, it flew in low towards the centre of the yard. She saw Erica had almost reached Flanagan. The sound of semi-automatic gunfire was deadened due to the noise of the helicopter. Franky ducked instinctively, tucking herself behind the bench in the hope it was some protection. Women were being hit. She saw Flanagan grab the ladder at the same time as Erica fell.

Franky stood up. She ran forward towards Erica. She could feel the bullets hitting the ground around her as she ran. She reached Erica in seconds. She could see the Governor was hit multiple times.

“Fuck Erica,” Franky looked around desperately. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She had to get Erica to cover. “I’m going to move you,” she told her. She put her arm around her shoulder and put all her strength behind lifting Erica to her feet. She felt someone help her. It was Kat. “Get Boomer,” was all she said. Kat wasn’t going to be strong enough.

Kat shook her head. “She’s been hit, you’re stuck with me.”

“Come on then,” was all Franky said. She could hear the helicopter start to gain height. The gunfire continued but Franky sensed they were no longer the target. They managed to get to the entrance of cell block H without further injury.

Erica was unconscious. Franky remembered crying out insisting she had to stay with Erica and Vera and Fletch trying to marshall her towards the cells. Franky had fought them off. She was so worked up they had sedated her. The last image she had before she passed out was of Erica being assessed by medical staff.


	36. Who Dares Wins

Franky woke up suddenly. It was morning. Something important was happening today she remembered. She stared at the ceiling. It had been over two months since Erica had been shot. Franky counted off the days in her head each morning. They were two long dark months for Franky. She’d taken refuge in her study. It was the only thing she could focus on because it made her feel close to Erica.

Linda Miles checked the spyhole and opened the door to Franky’s cell. “Get up Doyle,” she said. “You’ll need to be ready to go straight after breakfast. Here are your clothes,” she put a pile of clothes on the edge of Franky’s bed.

Franky looked at them. They were the clothes she had worn to court the day she’d been sentenced. Black pants, black jacket, a fitted top which covered her tattoos, heels. She had looked conservative, under-stated. The image of someone who had acted out of character and now regretted it. It hadn’t helped. She may as well have worn her usual jeans and tattoos proudly.

She entered the dining area to a series of jeers and wolf whistles. Franky acknowledged them with a self-deprecating smile and a nod of her head. “She scrubs up pretty good for a leso!” someone called out.

She sat down next to Kat. “You look pretty good too, kid,” Franky said to the younger woman. Kat was also dressed in her court clothes. She had even put on eye liner and lipstick, which Franky had never seen her wear before. It made her look older. Her hair was looking sleek and shiny. “Red, do your hair?” she asked.

Kat nodded. She was staring at Franky. “You look completely different,” she said with surprise.

“Thanks,” Franky said as she began eating. With Kat it could have been a compliment or equally an unintended insult. Franky had made an effort today though and she was pretty sure she looked good.

“I guess it’s nice to receive an award,” Kat said thoughtfully, “but I’d prefer a new leg.”

Kat’s artificial leg had been damaged further when a bullet had gone through the foot and broken the mechanism which allowed it to flex as she walked. Now she had a permanent limp.

Franky thought about all the things she’d trade an award for. Erica was at the top of the list followed closely by her freedom, and if it wasn’t too greedy she’d take both for the trade.

“I wish Boomer was here,” Kat said filling the silence between them. Franky looked at Kat. She knew Kat was missing Boomer’s presence in the cell block. “I mean I’m glad for her that she was released,” she added.

Boomer had been released a month earlier. Her injuries from the day of Flanagan’s escape had turned out to be non-fatal. A bullet had grazed her head causing much blood but little damage. She had also been shot in the leg, which had incapacitated her immediately. She had been lucky. Three other prisoners had died that day. Three prisoners and one member of staff but life went on anyway.

Franky had no appetite. She looked at the fried egg and felt nauseous. She pushed away her plate. In the old days Boomer would have finished it for her. Now it just sat in front of her congealing. Franky stood up. She was feeling impatient, edgy but there was no opportunity to run today. She ducked outside instead and smoked a cigarette to calm herself.

She and Kat were being given bravery awards for their actions on the day of the escape. Franky couldn’t understand it personally. Her actions had been as much about saving herself as saving Erica. Kat, on the other hand, had shown bravery. Franky had questioned her later about why she had risked her life to save Erica. “You needed help,” Kat had replied.

News after the incident had been hard to come by. Franky had missed the news that night, being still under sedation, and the nurses claimed they hadn’t been given any information on the Governor’s condition. Franky thought they were keeping her in the dark deliberately because the news would cause her to relapse. She convinced herself Erica was dead. It wasn’t until she was allowed back to the cell block the following day that Kat could fill her in. According to the news report Erica was in a critical but stable condition having been operated on earlier that afternoon.

Since then the screws had been pestered by Franky on a daily basis for any updates on Erica’s recuperation and likely return. Not that they were very forthcoming with news, whether it was because they didn’t know or had been told not to release any information, Franky wasn’t sure.

The reason she didn’t refuse the award when she was told of it was the hope she might see Erica at the ceremony. She had just nodded to Channing when he had told her that she and Kat were excellent examples of how prisoners could reform. “Instead of being a burden on society, you are able to contribute in a positive way,” he said with a patronising smile. “We need to promote these transformations,” he finished with. Franky took that to mean, “We need a good news story out of this disastrous escape and all its implications, and you’re it.”

Kat and Franky suffered the indignity of a group strip search. Not that Franky cared. She had no inhibitions when it came to her body. Kat couldn’t help but stare at her friend’s tattoos. They decorated her body and made her seem vaguely warrior-like.

“Who is taking us to Government House, Miss Miles?” Kat was sitting in a chair while Linda carefully checked her artificial leg for any hidden gear.

“Mr Fletcher,” Linda told her. “He is getting a commendation himself for his actions during the kitchen fire.”

As it turned out Vera was also to accompany them. Franky was handcuffed to Fletch while Kat was similarly attached to the acting Governor. Franky could feel Fletch’s disapproval. He did not think prisoners should be rewarded. Franky glanced at his watch as she sat beside him in the car. Soon she would see Erica. Her foot tapped restlessly.

There were about twenty-five people receiving awards or commendations that day. All recipients were seated in the front rows of the hall in front of the dais. The guests were seated behind them. Franky craned her neck but couldn’t see Erica from where she sat. She waited impatiently until she heard her name.

“On the morning of February 28 2014, an audacious escape plan was executed at Wentworth Correctional Centre. A helicopter breached the prison’s security to drop a ladder into the outdoor area when the women prisoners were having their exercise time. While covering gunfire from a semi-automatic weapon continued to spray the yard two prisoners, Ms Francesca Doyle and Ms Katrina Frey, put themselves deliberately in the line of fire in order to go to the aid of the prison’s Governor, who had been shot. They were able to move the Governor to the safety of the cell block. By their actions Ms Doyle and Ms Frey displayed considerable bravery. They each receive the Bravery Medal.”

A burst of clapping and Franky was on her feet moving towards the dais to shake hands with the Governor of Victoria. He put a medal around her neck. As Kat received her medal, Franky scanned the crowd looking for Erica’s familiar features. She couldn’t see her. Then she and Kat were returning to their seats and the ceremony moved on.

Afterwards Vera allowed them to stay and mingle for a short time. A group photo was taken with all recipients and the Governor of Victoria then another with just Kat, Franky and the Governor. People wanted to talk to them. Their story had captured people’s attention. That prisoners would put their lives at risk to save one of the people who locked them up came as a surprise it seemed.

Franky let Kat respond to their questions. “You think all prisoners are the very worst society has to offer but most of the women I’ve met in gaol are the product of unfortunate circumstances,” she responded seriously. “They have had a childhood of abuse or they made a mistake. You judge them by their crime, not by their story, so it surprises you that we are capable of selfless actions.”

Franky continued to look for Erica. Surely she was here somewhere. Franky had banked on the fact she would attend the ceremony and she would be able to see with her own eyes that Erica was okay. She was desperate for that, she realised. It was as though she had been holding her breath since that day in the yard.

“Come on Franky,” Vera said at last. “It’s time to go.”

Franky let herself be handcuffed to Fletch again. Disappointment and something worse washed over her. Franky was suddenly certain Erica would never return to Wentworth. The reason for her absence today and the evasive answers from the screws about her return became clear in Franky’s mind. It didn’t matter that Franky had managed to save her life. Erica was gone anyway.

The following week Kat appeared in Franky’s cell. She propped on the end of Franky’s bed. “Come and play cards,” Kat suggested.

“I can’t, I’m studying,” Franky replied, looking down at the open book in her lap.

“No you’re not,” Kat refuted, “you were staring at the wall when I came in.” Franky didn’t respond. “You’ve been hiding in here all week,” she pointed out. “It’s not healthy.”

“Beat it kid,” was all Franky said. She began reading her law book again. Kat limped out after a few minutes of being ignored.

Franky concentrated hard on the words she was reading but they couldn’t distract her from her thoughts. She began reading aloud in the hope it would drown them out. It worked for her sometimes. She heard someone approach her cell and pause at the door.

“Busy,” she said without drawing a breath and continued reading aloud. She wished people would stop trying to talk to her. Couldn’t they see she didn’t care about any of them?

“Too busy even for me?” A familiar smiling voice asked.

Franky looked up in amazement. Erica was standing in the doorway looking just as she had always looked. She was smiling. She was alive. She was here. Franky put aside her book and stood up. Erica stepped inside the cell and closed the door. She leant against it.

“Hello,” she said. She didn’t trust herself to say anything more.

Franky stared at her. “I thought I’d never see you again,” the prisoner confessed suddenly. “I thought you were dead then I thought you had left Wentworth for good. No one would tell me anything so I just thought the worst,” she knew she was rambling. “I thought you’d be at the ceremony but you weren’t –” Franky’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. The emotion she’d held on to so tightly since Erica was shot threatened to overflow.

Erica closed the gap between them in a heartbeat. “It’s okay,” she put her arms around Franky and held her close. “I’m okay,” she said. She felt Franky’s arms enfold her. She could smell Franky’s shampoo. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

She pulled back after a while and looked at Franky. “I hear you aced your exams,” she said with a smile. “I told you that you didn’t need me,” she reminded her.

Franky looked at her. Erica couldn’t read the expression in those green eyes. “Not need you?” Franky repeated with disbelief. “Don’t you realise, Erica, I’m totally in love with you?” Franky watched Erica digest this.

“I–” she began but Franky kissed her quickly. She didn’t want to hear Erica avoid saying the words in return. She had wanted to tell Erica how she felt because for almost three months she had regretted never saying them. Thought she would never get to say them. Now she had and it was enough for the moment.

The kiss deepened. It was even sweeter because Franky had thought she might never kiss Erica again. Franky would lie in her cell at night for hours trying to remember when they had last kissed then trying to remember it in all its detail. She would replay the kiss in her mind over and over. She realised now those memories couldn’t compare with the real thing. The smell of Erica, the taste of her, and her response all intensified it.

There was a noise outside the cell. Erica pulled away. Franky felt the loss. She never wanted to let Erica go again. Instead she asked: “What happened?”

Erica sat on Franky’s bed and the prisoner sat down next to her. “They removed three bullets,” she told her. “I’d been shot in the abdomen, the shoulder and the leg. They tell me it was touch and go for a while but I was a fighter,” Erica smiled. Franky didn’t smile. It sounded far too close for comfort. “Once I was released from hospital my mother insisted I recuperate somewhere quiet so we went down to my parent’s beach house on the Mornington Peninsula. I only returned to the city two days ago.” Erica looked at Franky. “I would have come to the award ceremony if I’d known about it,” she said quietly.

Franky took her hand. “Maybe it was lucky you didn’t,” she said. “I might have had a hard time hiding my feelings and then where would we be?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Up shit creek,” Erica said. Franky laughed. She realised she hadn’t laughed in a long while. Not even Kat could tease one out of her lately. “I’ll never forget what you and Kat did for me,” Erica said suddenly. “You saved my life.”

“Well, if you could use your influence to get Kat a new artificial leg, she will be eternally grateful,” Franky informed her.

Erica smiled. “I’m sure something can be arranged.” Franky smiled in return. “I’ve got to go,” she said at last. Franky nodded. “There’s one more thing though,” Erica said before she got up. She kissed Franky softly. “You didn’t let me finish before,” she looked into those green eyes which looked back curiously. “I love you too, Franky Doyle, just so you know.”

She stood up quickly but Franky had moved just as fast. She pulled Erica into an embrace. “Oh no, don’t think you are going to declare and run, Miss Davidson,” she murmured in her ear. Then Franky kissed her. Swiftly, expertly and thoroughly and Erica hoped Kat was minding the door like she promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading...I've had so much fun writing this story. Some days, just like you, I had no idea where the next chapter would go or how the hell Franky and/or Erica would get themselves out of trouble. I've never written any fan fiction before and I realised pretty quickly that I was messing around with characters who were well loved and if I didn't stay true to them then I would hear about it. :-) Hopefully I did stay true to their characters and you enjoyed the ride. To those of you who stayed with it until the last chapter...thanks for the support, the feedback and here's to Wentworth Season 2!  
> Win


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